.+^^ —  ^\T — 


FIFTEEN  YEARS  ix  HELL 


AN  AUTOBIOGRAPHY. 


BY  LUTHER   BENSON 


INDIANAPOLIS: 

CARLON    &    HOLLKNBKOK. 

1885. 


Entered  according  to  act  of  Congress,   in  the  year  1877,   by 

LUTHER   -BENSON, 
In  the  office  of  the  Librarian  of  Congress  at  Washington,  D    C. 


KLECTROTYPKD  AT 

Indianapolis    Electrotype    Foundry, 

Kctchmn  It  Waiianinker,  Prop'rs. 


TABLE  OF  CONTENTS, 


CHAPTER   I. 

PAGE. 
Early  shadows  -An  unmerciful  enemy — The  miseries  of  the 

curse — Sorrow  and  gloom — What  alcohol  robs  man  of — 
What  it  doe& — What  it  does  not  do — Surrounding  evils — 
Blighted  homes — A  Titan  devil — The  utterness  of  the  de- 
stroyer— A  truthful  narrative — "It  stingeth  like  an  adder."  5 

CHAPTER  II. 

Birth,  parentage  and  early  education — Early  childhood — Early 
events — Memory  of  them  vivid — Bitter  desolation — An  active 
but  uneasy  life — Breaking  colts  for  amusement — Amount  of 
sleep — Temperament  has  much  to  do  in  the  matter  of  drink — 
The  author  to  blame  for  his  misspent  life — Inheritances — 
The  excellences  of  my  father  and  mother — The  road  to  ruin 
not  wilfully  trodden — The  people's  indifference  to  a  great 
danger — My  associates — What  became  of  them — The  cus- 
toms of  twenty  years  ago — What  might  have  been  .•  .  .  12 


iJ  TABLE  OF  CONTENTS. 

CHAPTER   III. 

The  old  log  school  house — My  studies  and  discontent — My 
first  <lriij.k  of  liquor — The  companion  of  my  first  debauch — 
One  drink  always  fatal — A  horrible  slavery — A  horseback 
ride  on  Sunday — Raleigh — Return  home — "  Dead  drunk  " — 
My  parents'  shame  and  sorrow — My  own  remorse — An  un- 
happy and  silent  breakfast — The  anguish  of  my  mother — 
Gradual  recovery — Resolves  and  promises — No  pleasure*  in 
drinking — The  system's  final  craving  for  liquor — The  hope- 
lessness of  the  drunkard's  condition — The  resistless  power  of 
appetite — Possible  escape — The  courage  required — The  thrc 
laws — Their  violation  and  man's  atonement 

CHAPTER  IV. 

School  days  at  Fairview — My  first  public  outbreak — A  school- 
mate— Drive  to  Falmouth — First  drink  at  Falmouth — Disap- 
pointment— Drive  to  Smelser's  Mills  — Hostetter's  Bitters — 
The  author's  opinion  of  patent  medicines,  bitters  especially — 
Boasting — More  liquor — Difficulty  in  lighting  a  cigar — A 
hound  that  got  in  bad  company — Oysters  at  Falmouth,  and 
what  befell  us  while  waiting  for  them — Drunken  slumber — 
A  hound  in  a  crib — Getting  awake — The  owner  of  the 
hound — Sobriety — The  Vienna  jug — Another  debauch — 
The  exhibition — The  end  of  the  school  term — Starting  to 
college  at  Cincinnati — My  companions — The  destruction 
wrought  by  alcohol — Dr.  Johnson's  declaration  concerning 
the  indulgence  of  this  vice — A  warning — A  dangerous  fal- 


TABLE  OF  CONTEXTS.  \\\ 

'acy — Byron's  inspiration  —  Lord  Brougham  —  Sheridan — 
Sue — Swinburne — Dr.  Carpenter's  opinion — An  erroneous 
idea — Temperance  the  best  aid  to  thought 33 

CHAPTER  V. 

Quit  college — Shattered  nerves — Summer  and  autumn  days — 
Improvement — Picnic  parties — A  fall — An  untimely  storm — 
Crawford's  beer  and  ale — Beer  brawls — County  fairs  and 
their  influence  on  my  life — My  yoke  of  white  oxen — The 
"  red  ribbon  " — "One  McPhillipps  " — How  I  got  home  and 
how  I  found  myself  in  the  morning — My  mother's  agony — 
A  day  of  teaching  under  difficulties — Quiet  again — Law 
studies  at  Connersville — "Out  on  a  spree  " — What  a  spree 
means 49 

CHAPTER   VI 

L-ixv  practice  at  Rushville — Bright  prospects — The  blight — 
'•"ruin  bad  to  worse — My  mother's  <lc.it li — My  solemn  prom- 
.M.-  to  her — "  Broken,  oh,  God  !  " — Reflection — My  remorse 
—The  memory  of  my  mother — A  young  man's  duty — Blessed 
are  the  pure  in  heart — The  grave — Young  man,  murder  not 
your  mother — Rum — A  knife  which  is  never  red  with  blood, 
hut  which  lias  severed  uls  and  stabbed  thousands  to  death 
— The  desolation  an'l  d^-ath  which  are  in  alcohol.  ...  62 

CHAPTER    vrll. 

Blank,  black  night — Afloat — From  place  to  place — No  rest — 


jv  TABLE  OF  CONTENTS. 

Struggles — Giving  way — One  gallon  of  whisky  in  twenty- 
four  hours — Plowing  corn — Husking  corn — My  object — All 
in  vain — Old  before  my  time — A  wild,  oblivious  journey — 
Delirium  tremens — The  horrors  of  hell — The  pains  of  the 
damned — Heavenly  hosts — My  release — New  tortures — Inj 
sane  wanderings — In  the  woods — At  Mr.  Hinchman's — • 
Frozen  feet — Drive  to  town  in  a  buggy  surrounded  by  devils 
— Fears  and  sorrows — No  rest •  7> 

CHAPTER  VIII. 

Wretchedness  and  degradation — Clothes,  credit,  and  reputa- 
tion all  lost— The  prodigal's  return  to  his  father's  house — 
Familiar  scenes — The  beauty  of  nature — My  lack  of  feeling 
— A  wild  horse — I  ride  him  to  Raleigh  and  get  drunk — A 
mixture  of  vile  poison — My  ride  and  fall — The  broken  stir' 
rups — My  father's  search — I  get  home  once  more — Depart 
the  same  day  on  the  wild  horse — A  week  at  Lewisville-^ 
bick — Yearnings  for  sympathy 87 

CHAPTER  IX. 

The  ever-recurring  spell — Writing  in  the  sand — Hartford  City 
— In  the  Ditch — Extricated — Fairly  started — A  telegram — 
My  brother's  death — Sober — A  long  night — Ride  home — Pal- 
pitation of  the  heart — Bluffton — The  inevitable — Delirium 
again — No  friends,  money,  nor  clothes — One  hundred  miles 
from  home — I  take  a  walk — Clinton  county — Engage  to 
teach  a  school — The  lobbies  of  hell — Arrested — Flight  to  the 


TABLE  OF  CONTENTS.  v 

country — Open  school — A  failure — Return  home — The  be- 
ginning of  a  terrible  experience — Two  months  of  uninter- 
rupted drinking  —  Coatless,  hatless,  and,  bootless  —  The 
"  Blue  Goose" — The  tremens — Inflammatory  rheumatism — 
The  torments  of  the  damned — Walking  on  crutches — Drive 
to  Rushville — Another  drunk — Pawn  my  clothes — At  Indi- 
anapolis— A  cold  bath — The  consequence — Teaching  school 
— Satisfaction  given — The  kindness  of  Daniel  Baker  and  his 
wife — A  paying  practice  at  law loo 

CHAPTER  X. 

The  "  Baxter  Law  " — Its  injustice — Appetite  is  not  controlled 
by  legislation — Indictments — What  they  amount  to — "  Not 
guilty" — The  Indianapolis  police — The  Rushville  grand 
jury — Start  home  afoot — Fear — The  coming  head-light — A 
desire  to  end  my  miserable  existence — "  Now  is  the  time  " — 
A  struggle  in  which  life  wins — Flight  across  the  fields — Bath- 
ing in  dew — Hiding  from  the  officers — My  condition — 
Prayer — My  unimaginable  sufferings — Advised  to  lecture — 
The  time  I  began  to  lecture 114 

CHAPTER  XI. 

My  first  lecture — A  cold  and  disagreeable  evening — A  fair  au- 
dience— My  success — Lecture  at  Fairview — The  people  turn 
out  en  masse — At  Rushville — Dread  of  appearing  before  the 
audience — Hesitation — I  go  on  the  stage  and  am  greeted 
with  applause — My  fright — I  throw  off  my  father's  old  coat 


vi  TABLE  OF  CONTENTS. 

and  stand  forth — Begin  to  speak,  and  soon  warm  to  my  sub- 
ject— I  make  a  lecture  tour — Four  hundred  and  seventy  lec- 
tures in  Indiana — Attitude  of  the  press — The  aid  of  the  good 
— Opposition  and  falsehood — Unkind  criticism — Tattle  mon- 
gers— Ten  months  of  sobriety — My  fall — Attempt  to  commit 
suicide — Inflict  an  ugly  but  not  dangerous-  wound  on  myself 
— Ask  the  sheriff  to  lock  me  in  the  jail — Renewed  effort — 
The  campaign  of '74 — "  Local  option." 124 

• 

CHAPTER  XII. 

Struggle  for  life — A  cry  of  warning — "  Why  don't  you  quit  ?" 
— Solitude,  separation,  banishment — No  quarter  asked — The 
rumseller — A  risk  no  man  should  incur — The  woman's  tem- 
perance convention  at  Indianapolis — At  Richmond  —  The 
bloated  druggist — "Death  and  damnation" — At  the  Gait 
House — The  three  distinct  properties  of  alcohol — Ten  days 
in  Cincinnati — The  delirium  tremens — My  horrible  sufferings 
— The  stick  that  turned  to  a  serpent — A  world  of  devils — 
Flying  in  dread — I  go  to  Connersville,  Indiana — My  condi- 
tion grows  worse — Hell,  horrors,  and  torments — The  horrid 
sights  of  a  drunkard's  madness 134 

CHAPTER  XIII. 

Recovery — Trip  to  Maine — Lecturing  in  that  State — Dr.  Rey- 
nolds, the  "Dare  to  do  right"  reformer — Return  to  Indian- 
apolis— Lecturing — Newspaper  extracts — The  criticisms  of 


TABLE  OF  CONTENTS.  VH 

the  press — Private  letters  of  encouragement — Friends  dear 

to  memory — Sacred  names 168 

CHAPTER  XIV. 

At  home  again — Overwork — Shattered  nerves — Downward  to 
hell — Conceive  the  idea  of  traveling  with  some  one — Leave 
Indianapolis  on  a  third  tour  east  in  company  with  Gen.  Ma- 
cauley — Separate  from  him  at  Buffalo — I  go  on  to  New  York 
alone — Trading  clothes  for  whisky — Delirious  wanderings — 
Jersey  City — In  the  calaboose — Deathly  sick — An  insane 
neighbor — Another — In  court — "John  Dalton" — "Here I 
your  honor  "  —  Discharged  —  Boston — Drunk — At  the  resi- 
dence of  Junius  Brutus  Booth — Lecturing  again — Home — 
Converted — Go  to  Boston — Attend  the  Moody  aud  Sankey 
meetings — Get  drunk — Home  once  more — Committed  to  the 
asylum — Reflections — The  shadow  which  whispered  "Go 
away!" f 186 

CHAPTER  XV. 

A  sleepless  night — Try  to  write  on  the  following  day  but  fail — 
My  friends  consult  with  the  officers  of  the  institution — I  am 
discharged — Go  to  Indianapolis  and  get  drunk — My  wander- 
ings and  horrible  sufferings — Alcohol — The  tyrant  whom  all 
should  slay — What  is  lost  by  the  drunkard — Is  anything 
gained  by  the  use  of  liquor? — Never  touch  it  in  any  form — 
It  leads  to  ruin  and  death — Better  blow  your  brains  out — 
My  condition  at  present — The  end 197 


PREFACE 


THE  days  of  Jong  prefaces  are  past.  It  is  also  too  iiear  the  end 
o«  the  century  to  indulge  in  fulsome  dedications.  I  shall,  there- 
fore, trouble  the  reader  with  only  a  brief  introduction  to  this 
i.;iperiect  history  of  an  imperfect  life.  The  conditions  under 
which  I  write  necessarily  make  it  lacking  in  much  that  would 
ordinarily  have  added  to  its  interest.  I  write  within  the  Indiana 
Asylum  for  the  Insane  ;  I  have  not  the  means  of  information  at 
hand  which  I  should  have  to  make  the  work  what  it  should  be, 
and  notes  which  I  had  taken  from  time  to  time,  with  a  view  of 
using  them,  have  unfortunately  been  lost.  Much  of  my  life  is  a 
complete  blank  to  me,  as  I  have  often,  very  often,  alas !  gone  for 
days  oblivious  to  every  act  and  thing,  as  dead  to  all  about  me  as 
the  stones  of  the  pavement  are  Humb.  Nor  can  I  connect  a 
succession  of  incidents  one  after  the  other  as  they  occurred  in  the 
regular  course  of  my  life.  The  reader  is  asked  to  be  merciful  in 
his  judgment  and  pardon  the  imperfections  which  I  fear  abound  in 
the  book.  The  title,  "  FIFTEEN  YEARS  IN  HELL,"  may,  to  some, 
seem  irreverent  or  profane,  but  let  me  assure  any  such  that  it  is 
\h;  mildest  T  can  find  which  conveys  an  idea  of  the  facts.  Expect 
nothing  ornate  or  romantic.  The  path  along  which  you  who  walk 
with  me  will  go  is  not  a  flowery  one.  Its  shadows  are  those  of  the 
cypress  and  yew  ;  its  skies  are  curtained  with  funereal  clouds ;  its 
beginning  is  a  gloom  and  its  end  is  a  mad  house.  But  go  with 


4  PREFACE. 

me,  for  you  can  suffer  no  harm,  and  a  knowledge  of  what  you  will 
see  may  lead  you  to  warn  others  who  are  in  danger  of  doing  as  I 
have  done.  Unless  help  comes  to  me  from  on  high,  I  feel  that  I 
am  near  the  end  of  my  weary  and  sorrow-laden  pilgrimage  on 
earth.  You  who  are  in  the  light,  I  speak  to  you  from  the  shadow ; 
you  who  suffer,  I  speak  to  you  from  the  depths ;  you  who  are  dying, 
j  =;rhaps  I  may  speak  to  you  from  the  world  of  the  dead  ;  in  any 
case  the  words  herein  written  are  the  truth. 


CHAPTER  I. 

Early  shadows  —  An  unmerciful  enemy  —  The  miseries  of  trie 
curse  —  Sorrow  and  gloom  —  What  alcohol  robs  man  of — What 
it  does  —  What  it  does  not  do  —  Surrounding  evils  —  Blighted 
homes  —  A  Titan  devil  —  The  utterness  of  the  destroyer  —  A 
truthful  narrative  —  "  It  stingeth  like  an  adder." 

Truth,  said  Lord  Byron,  is  stranger  than  fiction. 
He  was  right,  for  so  it  is.  Another  has  declared  that 
if  any  man  should  write  a  faithful  history  of  his  own 
career,  the  work  would  be  an  interesting  one.  The 
question  now  arises,  does  any  man  dare  to  be  suffi- 
ciently candid  to  write  such  a  work  ?  Is  there  no 
secret  baseness  he  would  hide?  —  no  act  which,  proper 
to  be  told,  he  would  swerve  from  the  truth  to  tell  in 
his  own  favor?  Undoubtedly,  many.  Doubtless  it 
is  well  that  few  have  the  resolution  or  inclination  to 
chronicle  their  faults  and  failings.  How  many,  too, 
would  shrink  from  making  a  public  display  of  their 
miserable  experiences  for  fear  of  being  accused  of 
glorying  in  their  past  shame,  or  of  parading  a  pride 
that  apes  humility.  I  pretend  to  no  talent,  but  if  a 

(5) 


Q  FIFTEEN  YEARS  IN  HELL. 

too  true  story  of  suffering  may  interest,  and  at  the 
same  time  alarm,  I  can  promise  matter  enough,  and 
unembellished,  too,  for  no  embellishment  is  needed, 
as  all  my  sketches  are  from  the  life.  The  incidents 
will  not  be  found  to  be  consecutive,  but  set  down  as 
certain  scenes  occur  to  my  recollection  —  heedless  of 
order,  style,  or  system.  Each  is  a  record  of  shame, 
suffering,  destitution  and  disgrace.  I  have  all  my 
life  stood  without  and  gazed  longingly  through  gate- 
ways which  relentlessly  barred  me  from  the  light  and 
warmth  and  glory,  which,  though  never  for  me,  wras 
shining  beyond.  From  the  day  that  consciousness 
came  to  me  in  this  world  I  have  been  miserable.  In 
early  childhood  I  swam,  as  it  were,  in  a  dark  sea  of 
sorrow  whose  sad  waves  forever  beat  over  me  with  a 
prophetic  wail  of  desolations  and  storms  to  come. 
During  the  years  of  boyhood,  when  others  were 
thoughtless  and  full  of  joy,  the  sun's  rays  were 
hidden  from  my  sight  and  I  groped  hopelessly  for- 
ward, praying  in  vain  for  an  end  of  misery.  Out  of 
such  a  boyhood  there  came  —  as  what  else  could 
come?  —  a  manhood  all  imperfect,  clothed  with  gloom, 
haunted  by  horror,  and  familiar  with  undefinable 
terrors  which  have  weighed  upon  my  heart  until  I 
have  cried  to  myself  that  it  would  break  —  until  I 
have  almost  prayed  that  it  would  break  and  thereby 
free  me  from  the  bondage  of  my  pitiless  master,  Woe/ 


AUTOBIOGRAPHY  OF  LUTHER  BENSON.  7 

To-day  walled  within  a  prison  for  madmen,  looking 
from  a  window  whose  grating  is  iron,  the  sole  occu- 
pant of  a  room  as  blank  as  the*  leaf  of  happiness  is  to 
me,  I  abandon  every  hope.  On  this  side  the  silence 
which  we  call  death  —  that  silence  which  inhabits  the 
dismal  grave,  there  is  for  me  only  sorrow  and  ago  if 
keener  than  has  ever  before  made  gray  and  old  before 
its  time  the  heart  of  man.  Thirty  years!  and  what 
are  they?  —  what  have  they  been?  Patience,  and  as 
best  I  can,  I  will  unfold  their  record.  Thirty  years! 
and  I  feel  that  the  weight  of  a  world's  wretchedness 
has  lain  upon  me  for  thrice  their  number  of  terrible 
days!  Every  effort  of  my  life  has  been  a  failure. 
Surely  and  steadily  the  hand  of  misfortune  has 
crushed  me  until  I  have  looked  forward  to  my  bier 
as  a  blessed  bed  of  repose  —  rest  from  weariness  — 
fbrgetfhlnesa  of  remorse  —  escape  from  misery.  At 
the  dawn  of  life,  ay,  in  its  very  beginning,  there 
came  to  me  a  bitter,  deadly,  unmerciful  enemy, 
accompanied  in  those  days  by  song  and  laughter  — 
an  enemy  that  was  swift  in  getting  me  in  bis  power, 
and  who,  when  I  was  once  securely  his  victirr, 
turned  all  laughter  into  wailing,  and  all  songs  into 
sobbing,  and  pressed  to  my  bloated  lips  his  poisonous 
chalice  which  I  have  ever  found  full  of  the  stinging 
adders  of  heU  and  death.  Too  well  do  I  know  what 
it  is  to  fee1  the  burning  and  jagged  links  of  the 


g  FIFTEEN   YEARS  IN  HELL. 

devil's  chain  cutting  through  my  quivering  flesh  to 
the  shrinking  bone — to  feel  my  nerves  tremble  with 
agony,  and  my  brain  burn  as  if  bathed  in  liquids  of 
fire  —  too  well,  I  say,  do  I  know  what  these  things 
are,  for  I  have  felt  them  intensified  again  and  again, 
ten  thousand  times.  The  infinite  God  alone  knows 
the  deep  abyss  of  my  sorrow,  and  help,  if  help  be 
possible,  can  come  from  him  alone. 

I  shall  not  attempt  in  these  pages  any  learned' 
disquisition  upon  the  nature  of  alcohol — its  hideous 
effects  on  the  system  —  how  it  disarranges  all  the 
functions  of  the  body  — how  it  impairs  health  —  blots 
out  memory,  dethrones  reason,  and  destroys  the  very 
soul  itself — how  it  gives  to  the  whole  body  an 
unnatural  and  unhealthy  action,  crucifying  the  flesh, 
blood,  bones  and  marrow  —  how  it  paints  hell  in  the 
mind  and  torture  on  the  heart,  and  strangles  hope 
with  despair. 

Nor  shall  I  discuss  the  terrible  and  overshadowing 
evils,  financial  and  social,  inflicted  by  it  on  every  class 
o*"  society.  Like  the  trail  of  the  serpent  it  is  over  all. 
Look  where  you  will,  turn  where  you  may,  you  can 
not  be  blind  to  its  evils.  It  despoils  manhood  of 
all  that  makes  manhood  desirable ;  it  plucks  hope 
from  the  breast  of  the  weeping  wife  with  a  hand  of 
ice;  it  robs  the  orphan  of  his  bread  crumb,  and  says  to 
the  gates  of  penitentiaries,  "  Open  wide  and  often  to 


AUTOBIOGRAPHY  OF  LUTHER  BENSON.  9 

the  criminals  who  became  my  slaves  before  they  com- 
mitted crime."  The  evils  of  which  I  speak  are  not 
unknown  to  you,  but  have  you  considered  them  as 
things  real?  Have  you  fought  them  as  present  and 
near  dangers?  You  have  heard  the  wild  sounds  of 
drunken  revelry  mingling  with  the  night  winds;  you 
have  heard*the  shrieks  and  sobs,  and  seen  the  stream- 
ing, sunken  eyes  of  dying  women  ;  you  have  heard 
'the  unprotected  and  unfriended  orphans'  cry  echoed 
from  a  thousand  blighted  homes  and  squalid  tene- 
ments; you  have  seen  the  outcast  family  of  the  ine- 
briate wandering  houseless  upon  the  highways,  or 
shivering  on  the  streets;  you  have  shuddered  at  the 
sound  of  the  maniac's  scream  upon  the  burdened  air; 
you  have  beheld  the  human  form  divine  despoiled  of 
every  humanizing  attribute,  transformed  from  an  angel 
into  a  devil;  you  have  seen  virtue  crushed  by  vice; 
the  bright  eye  lose  its  lustre,  the  lips  their  power  of 
articulation;  you  have  seen  what  was  clean  become 
foul,  what  was  upright  become  crooked,  what  was 
high  become  low — man,  first  in  the  order  of  created 
things,  sunken  to  a  level  with  brute  beasts;  and  after 
all  these  you  have  or  may  have  said  to  yourself,  "All  . 
this  is  the  work  of  the  terrible  demon,  alcohol." 

I  shall  not  attempt  to  paint  any  of  the  countless 
scenes  of  degradation,  and  horror,  and  misery,  which 
this  demon  has  caused  to  be  enacted.  I  shall  leave 


10  FIFTEEN  YEARS  IN  HELL. 

without  comment  the  endless  train  of  crimes  and 
vices,  the  beggary  and  devastation  following  the  course 
of  this  foul  Titan  devil  of  ruin  and  damnation.  I 
shall  only  endeavor  to  give  a  plain,  truthful  history 
of  one  who  has  felt  every  pang,  every  sorrow,  every 
agony,  every  shame,  every  remorse,  that  the  demon 
of  drunkenness  can  inflict.  I  have  nothing  to  thank 
this  demon  for,  beyond  a  few  fleeting — oh,  how  fleet- 
ing— hours  of  false  delight.  He  has  wrought  only 
woe  and  loss  to  me.  Even  now,  as  I  sit  here  in  the 
stillness  of  desperation,  afraid  of  I  know  not  what, 
trembling  with  a  strange  dread  of  some  impending 
doom,  gazing  in  fright  backward  along  the  shores  of 
the  years  whereon  I  see  the  wrecks  of  a  thousand 
hopes,  the  destruction  of  every  noble  aspiration,  the 
ruin  of  every  noble  resolve,  I  cry  aloud  against  the 
utterness  of  the  destroyer.  My  life  has  indeed  been 
a  sad  one ;  so  sad,  so  lonely,  that  no  language  in  my 
power  of  utterance  can  give  to  the  leador  a  full  con- 
ception of  its  mocMiless  darkness.  Would  that  the 
magic  pen  of  a  De  Quincey  were  mine  that  my  mis- 
eries might  stand  out  until  strong-hearted  men  and 
true-hearted  women  would  weep,  and  every  young 
man  and  maiden  also  would  tremble  and  turn  from 
everything  intoxicating  as  from  the  oblivion  of  eter- 
nal death. 

To  many,  certain  events  which  I  shall  relate  in  this 


AUTOBIOGRAPHY  OF  LUTHER  BENSON.         \\ 

history  may  seem  incredible;  some  of  the  escapes  may 
seem  improbable;  but  again  let  me  assure  you  that 
there  shall  not  be  one  word  of  exaggeration.  The 
incidents  took  place  just  as  I  shall  state  them.  I 
have  passed  through  not  only  all  that  you  will  find 
recorded  in  these  pages,  but  ten  thousand  times  num. 
As  I  lift  the  dark  veil  and  look  back  through  the 
black,  unlighted  past,  I  shudder  and  hold  my  breath 
as  scene  after  ^cene,  each  more  appalling  than  the  one 
just  before  it,  rises  like  the  phantom  line  of  Banquo's 
issue,  defining  itself  with  pitiless  distinctness  upon 
my  seared  eyeballs,  until  the  last  and  most  awful  of 
all  stands  tall  and  black  by  my  side,  and  whispers, 
hisses,  shrieks  Madness  in  my  ears.  I  bow  my  head 
and  find  a  moment's  relief  from  the  anguish  of  soul  in 
the  hot  scalding  tears  which  stream  down  my  fevered 
cheeks.  O  God  of  sure  mercy,  save  other  young  men 
from  the  dark  and  desolate  tortures  which  gnaw  at 
my.  heart,  and  press  down  upon  my  weary  soul! 
They  are  all,  all,  all  the  work  of  alcohol.  Oh,  how 
true  it  is — how  true  few  can  understand  until  their 
lives  are  a  burden  of  distress  and  agony  to  them-  - 
that  the  cup  which  inebriates  stingeth  like  an  adde  . 
SVhen  you  see  it,  turn  from  it  as  from  a  viper.  Say 
to  yourself  as  you  turn  to  fly,  "  It  stingeth  like  an 
adder!" 


CHAPTER  II. 

Birth,  parentage,  and  early  education  —  Early  childhood  —  Early 
events —  Memory  of  them  vivid  —  Bitter  desolation  —  An  active 
but  uneasy  life  —  Breaking  colts  for  amusement  —  Amount  of 
sleep  —  Temperament  has  much  to  do  in  the  matter  of  drink  — 
The  author  to  blame  for  his  misspent  life — Inheritances — The 
excellences  of  my  father  and  mother  —  The  road  to  ruin  not  wil- 
fully trodden — The  people's  indifference  to  a  great  danger — My 
associates  —  What  became  of  them  —  The  customs  of  twenty 
years  ago  —  What  might  have  been. 

As  to  my  birth,  parentage  and  education,  I  am  the 
last  but  one  of  a  family  of  nine  children,  seven  of 
whom  were  boys,  and  all  of  whom,  excepting  one 
brother,  are'  now  living.  Both  brothers  and  sisters 
are,  without  an  exception,  sober,  industrious  and  hon- 
est. I  was  born  in  Rush  county,  Indiana,  on  the  9th 
day  of  September,  1847. 

If  there  is  one  spot  in  all  the  black  waste  of  desola- 
tion about  which  I  cling  with  fond  memory  it  is  in  my 
early  childhood,  and  there  is  no  part  of  my  life  that 
is  so  fresh  and  vivid  as  that  embraced  in  those  first 
early  years.  I  can  remember  distinctly  events  which 

(12) 


AUTOBIOGRAPHY  OF  LUTHER  BENSON.         13 

transpired  when  I  was  but  two  years  old,  while  I 
have  forgotten  thousands  of  incidents  which  have  oc- 
curred within  the  past  two  years.  While  it  is  true 
that  in  early  childhood  a  dark  shadow  fell  athwart  ray 
pathway,  making  everything  sombre  and  painful  with 
an  impression  of  desolation,  yet  was  my  condition 
happy  in  comparison  with  the  rayless  and  pitchv 
blackness  which  subsequently  folded  its  curtains  close 
about  my  very  being,  seeming  to  make  respiration 
impossible  at  times  and  life  a  nightmare  of  mockery. 
Seeming,  do  I  say?  Nay,  it  did,  for  nothing  can  be 
more  real  than  our  feelings,  no  matter  how  falsely 
they  may  be  created.  The  agony  of  a  dream  is  as 
keen  while  it  lasts  as  any  other  —  more  so,  because 
there  is  a  helplessness  about  it  which  makes  it  harder 
to  resist. 

Many  times,  lying  in  my  bed  after  a  disgraceful 
debauch  of  days'  or  weeks'  duration,  has  my  memory 
winged  its  way  through  the  realms  of  darkness  in  the 
mournful  and  lonesome  past,  back  through  years  of 
horror  and  suffering  to  the  green  and  holy  morning 
of  life,  as  it  at  this  moment  seems  to  me,  and  reste4 
for  an  instant  on  some  quiet  hour  in  that  dawn  whichi 
broke  tempestuously,  heralding  the  storms  which 
would  later  gather  and  break  about  me.  At  such 
times  I  could  distinctly  remember  the  names  and  fea- 
tures of  all  the  persons  who  dwelt  in  the  vicinity  of 


14  FIFTEEN   YEARS  IN  HELL. 

my  father's  house,  although  many  of  them  died  long 
ago  or  passed  away  from  the  neighborhood.  I  could 
at  this  time  repeat  word  for  word  conversations  which 
took  place  twenty-five  years  ago.  I  do  not  so  much 
attribute  this  to  a  retentive  memory  as  to  the  habit  I 
fc  ive  had  of  thinking,  when  my  mind  was  in  a  condi- 
tion to  think,  of  all  that  was  a  part  of  my  early  life, 
Again  and  again,  as  the  years  gather  up  around  me, 
and  the  valley  of  life  deepens  its  shadows  toward  the 
tomb,  do  I  go  back  in  memory  to  the  days  that  were. 
Again  and  again  do  I  awaken  to  the  beauty,  the  love, 
the  faces  and  friends  of  those  days.  They  are  all  dear 
and  sacred  to  me  now,  though  I  know  they  can  come 
no  more,  and  that  the  hollow  spaces  of  time  between 
the  Here  and  There  —  the  Now  and  Then  —  will  re- 
verberate forever  with  the  echoes  of  many-voiced  sor- 
rows. Could  those  who  meet  me  look  down  into  the 
depths  of  my  ghastly  and  bitter  desolation,  they 
would  behold  more  appalling  pictures  of  human  ag- 
ony than  ever  mortal  eye  gazed  upon  since  the  open- 
ing of  the  day  of  time — since  the  roses  of  Eden  first 
bloomed  and  knew  not  the  blight  so  soon  to  darken 
f  .ie  earthly  paradise  by  the  rivers  of  the  east.  But  1 
wander  from  my  subject. 

I  lived  and  worked  on  my  father's  farm  until  I 
was  eighteen  years  of  age.  As  I  have  already  said, 
even  when  a  child  I  found  myself  sad  and  much 


AUTOB1OGRATH\  OF  LUTHER  BENSON.         15 

depressed  at  times.  I  could  not  bear  the  society  of 
my  companions,  and  at  such  times  would  wander 
away  alone  to  meditate  and  brood  over  my  misery. 
At  the  very  threshold  of  life  1  was  dissatisfied  and 
discontented  with  my  surroundings.  I  was  ever 
anxious  and  uneasy,  ever  longing  for  some  undefina- 
ble.  unnamable  something  —  I  knew  not  what,  but, 
O  God,  I  knew  the  desolation  of  feeling  which  was 
then  mine.  The  sorrow  of  the  grave  is  lighter  than 
that.  My  life  has  always  been  an  active  one  —  rest- 
less, uneasy,  and  full  of  action,  I  naturally  wanted  to 
be  doing  something  or  going  somewhere.  From  the 
time  I  was  seven  years  old  up  to  the  time  I  was 
fifteen  there  was  not  a  calf  or  colt  on  the  farm  that 
was  not  thoroughly  broken  to  work  or  to  be  ridden. 
In  this  work  or  pastime  of  breaking  in  calves  and 
colts  I  received  sundry  kicks,  wounds,  and  bruises 
quite  often,  and  still  upon  my  person  are  some  of  the 
marks  imprinted  by  untamed  animals.  I  only  speak 
of  these  things  that  the  reader  may  know  the  charac- 
ter of  my  temperament,  and  thus  be  enabled  to  judge 
more  correctly  of  it  when  influenced  and  excited  by 
stimulants  which  will  arouse  to  rash  actions  the 
dullest  organizations.  I  was  invariably  the  last  one 
to  go  to  bed  when  night  came,  but  not  the  last  to 
rise,,  for  I  always  bounded  out  of  bed  ahead  of  the 
others;  and  in  this  connection  I  can  assert  with  truth 


16  FIFTEEN  YEARS  IN  HELL. 

that  for  over  twenty  years  I  have  not  averaged  over 
five  hours  of  sleep  out  of  every  twenty-four  during 
that  time.  I  have  never  found  in  all  nature  one 
object  or  occupation  that  gave  me  more  than  a  swiftly 
passing  gleam  of  contentment  or  pleasure.  That  the 
reader  may  clearly  comprehend  my  present  condition 
and  impartially  judge  as  to  my  culpability  in  certain 
of  my  acts,  I  desire  that  he  may  know  the  circum- 
stances and  surroundings  of  my  childhood,  for  I  do 
solemnly  aver  that  my  sorrows  and  miseries  were  not 
of  my  own  planting  in  those  days.  While  I  believe 
that  some  men  will  be  drunkards  in  spite  of  almost 
everything  that  can  be  done  for  their  relief,  others 
there  are,  no  matter  how  surrounded,  who  never  will 
oe  drunkards,  but  solely  because  they  abstain  from 
ever  tasting  the  insidious  poison.  Temperament  has 
much  to  do  with  the  matter  of  drink,  and  could  it  be 
known  and  properly  guarded  against,  I  believe  that 
a  majority  of  those  having  the  strongest  predisposition 
to  drink,  if  steps  were  taken  in  time,  could  be  saved 
from  its  inevitable  .  end,  which  is  madness  and 
death.  I  would  here  say  to  parents  that  it  is  their 
solemn  duty  to  study  well  the  disposition  and  temper- 
ament of  their  children  from  the  hour  of  their  birth. 
By  proper  training  and  restraint,  all  wrong  impulses 
might  be  corrected  and  the  child  saved  from  a  life  of 
shameful  misery,  while  they  would  themselves  escape 


AUTOBIOGRAPHY  OF  LUTHER  BENSON.         \1 

ehe  sorrow  which  would  come  to  them  because  of  the 
wrong-doing  of  the  child.  While  no  person  is 
particularly  to  blame  for  my  misspent  life,  yet  I  can 
clearly  see  to-day  how  its  worse  than  wasted  years 
might  have  been  years  of  use  and  honor.  Its  every 
step  might  have  been  planted  with  actions  the  mem- 
ory of  which  would  have  been  a  blessing  instead  of 
a  remorse. 

I  have  no  recollection  of  a  time  when  I  had  not  an 
appetite  for  liquor.  My  parents  and  friends  of  course 
knew  that  if  it  was  taken  in  excess  it  would  lead  to 
destruction,  but  in  our  quiet  neighborhood,  where 
little  was  known  of  its  excesses,  no  one  dreamed  of 
the  fearful  curse  which  slumbered  in  it  for  me  to 
awake.  Had  they  had  the  least  dread,  fear,  or  antic- 
ipation of  it  they  would  have  left  nothing  undone 
that  being  done  might  have  saved  me.  My  appetite 
for  it  was  born  with  me,  and  was  as  much  a  part  of 
myself  as  the  air  I  breathed.  There  are  three  kinds 
of  inheritances,  some  of  money  and  lands,  some  of 
superior  or  greai  talents,  and  others  of  misfortunes. 
For  myself  this  misfortune  was  my  inheritance.  It 
came  not  to  me  directly  from  my  father  or  mother,  bub 
from  my  mother's  father,  and  seemed  to  lie  waiting  for 
me  for  three  or  four  generations,  and  the  mistakes  and 
.ssion  of  long  dead  great  grandparents  reappeared  in 
2 


18  FIFTEEN  YEARS  IN  HELL. 

me,  thus  fulfilling-,  with  terrible  truth,  the  words  of 
the  divine  book.  It  has  been  gathering  strength  until 
when  it  broke  forth  its  force  has  become  wide-sweep- 
ing, irresistible  and  rushing  —  a  consuming  power, 
devouring  and  sweeping  away  whatever  dares  to 
arrest  its  onward  progress.  Never,  never,  in  those 
long  gone  and  innocent  years  of  my  childhood  did  my 
father  or  mother  dream  that  I,  their  much-loved  child, 
would  ever  become  a  drunkard.  If  there  is  anything 
good,  manly,  noble  or  true,  that  is  a  part  of  me',  I  am 
indebted  to  them  for  it.  They  loved  me,  and  I  wor- 
shiped them.  The  consciousness  that  I  have  caused 
them  to  suffer  so  much  has  been  the  keenest  sorrow 
of  my  life.  My  mother  (blessed  be  the  name!)  is  now 
in  heaven.  When  she  died  the  light  went  out  from 
my  soul.  A  pang  more  poignant  than  any  known 
before  pierced  me  through  and  through.  My  father 
is  living  still,  and  I  verily  believe  there  is  not  a  son 
on  earth  who  more  truly  and  devotedly  honors  and 
loves  his  father  than  I  mine.  But  I  desire  to  show  that 
I  am  not  wholly  responsible  for  my  present  unhappy 
condition.  It  is  natural  for  every  man  to  wish  to 
excuse,  or  at  least  try  to  soften  the  lines  of  his  mis- 
takes with  palliating  reasons,  and  this  I  think  right 
so  long  as  the  truth  is  adhered  to,  and  injustice  is  not 
done  any  one.  I  hope  no  one  will  think  that  I  have 
willfully  trod  the  road  to  ruin,  or  sunk  myself  so  low 


AUTOBIOGRAPHY  OF  LUTHER  BENSON.          19 

when  I  have  desired  the  opposite  with  my  whole  heart. 
I  was  a  victim  of  the  fell  spirit  of  alcohol  before  I 
realized  it.  I  was  raised  in  a  place  where  opportu- 
nities to  drink  were  numerous,  as  everybody  in  those 

• 

days  kept  liquor,  and  to  drink  was  not  the  dangerous 
and  disgraceful  thing  it  s  now  considered  to  be.  Fcr 
a  radius  of  ten  miles  from  our  house  more  people  kept 
whisky  in  their  cupboards  or  cellars  than  were  with- 
out it.  I  never  heard  a  temperance  lecturer  until  I 
was  twenty  years  of  age,  and  but  seldom  heard  of  one. 
The  people  were  asleep  while  a  great  danger  was 
gathering  in  the  land — a  danger  which  is  now  known 
and  seen,  and  which  is  so  vast  in  its  magnitude  that 
the  combined  strength  of  all  who  love  peace^  order, 
sobriety  and  happiness,  is  scarcely  sufficient  to  meet  it 
in  victorious  combat. 

What  associates  I  had  in  those  days  were  among 
men  rather  than  boys,  and  the  men  I  went  with  drank. 
They  gave  whisky  to  me  and  I  drank  it,  and  whether 
they  gave  it  or  not,  I  wanted  it.  Some  of  those  who 
gave  me  drinks  are  no  longer  among  the  living,  but 
neither  of  them  nor  of  the  livjng  would  I  speak  un- 
kindly, nor  call  up  in  the  memory  of  one  who  may 
read  this  book  a  thought  that  might  excite  a  pang;' 
but  I  would  ask  any  such  just  to  go  back  ten,  fifteen, 
and  twenty  years,  and  tell  me  where  are  some  of  the 
wealthy,  influential  men  of  that  time?  In  the  silence 


20  FIFTEEN  YEARS  IN  HELL. 

of  the  winding-sheet !  How  many  of  them  .have  has- 
tened to  death  through  the  agency  of  whisky  ?  And 
how  few  suspected  that  slowly  but  surely  they,  were 
poisoning  the  wellsprings  of  life?  How  many  are 
bankrupts  now  that  might  yet  be  in' possession  of  un- 
i  cumbered  farms,  the  possessors  of  peaceful  homes, 
but  for  that  thief  accursed — Liquor!  Look,  too,  at 
some  of  the  sons  of  these  men,  and  say  what  you  see, 
for  you  behold  lives  wrecked  and  wretched.  Need  I 
tell  you  what  has  wrought  all  this  ruin  ?  Need  I  sa; 
that  intemperance  is  at  the  bottom  of  it? 

The  country  where  I  lived  in  youth  and  boyhooJ 
was  equal,  if  not  superior,  to  any  surrounding  it.  My 
father's  neighbors  were  all  kind-hearted,  generous 
people,  and  some  of  them  —  many  of  them,  indeed  — 
were  good  Christians,  and  yet  I  repeat  that  twenty 
years  ago  there  was  not  a  place  of  a  mile  in  extent 
but  presented  the  opportunity  for  drinking.  In  ev- 
ery little  town  and  village  whisky  was  kept  in  publit 
and  private  houses.  There  was,  and  yet  is,  near  my 
father's  farm  two  very  small  but  ancient  towns,  con- 
taining each  some  twenty  or  thirty  houses,  and  both  of 
t  cse  places  have  been  cursed  with  saloons  in  which 
liquor  has  been  sold  for  the  last  thirty  years.  Both 
of  these  towns  were  favorite  resorts  with  me,  espe- 
cially the  one  called  Raleigh.  I  have  been  drunk 
oftener  and  longer  at  a  time  in  Raleigh  than  in  any 


AUTOBIOGRAPHY  OF  LUTHER  BENSON.         21 

one  place  in  Indiana.  I  have  written  thus  of  my 
birthplace  and  surroundings,  that  the  reader  may 
know  the  temptations  that  encompassed  me  about, 
and  not  to  speak  against  any  place  or  people.  The 
country  in  my  father's  neighborhood  is  peopled  at 
this  time  with  noble  men  and  women  —  prosperous, 
noted  for  kindness,  generosity,  and  unpretending  vir- 
tue. I  think  if  I  had  been  raised  where  liquor  was 
unknown,  and  had  been  taught  in  early  childhood  the 
ruin  which  follows  drinking — if  I  had  had  this  im- 
pressed on  my  mind,  I  would  have  grown  up  a  sober 
and  happy  man,  notwithstanding  my  inherited  appe- 
tite. I  would  have  been  a  sober  man,  instead  of  tra- 
versing step  by  step  the  downward  road  of  dissipation. 
I  am  easily  impressed,  and  in  early  life  might  have 
been  taught  such  lessons  as  would  forever  have  turned 
my  feet  from  the  >vrong  and  desolation  in  which  they 
have  stumbled  so  often  —  in  which  they  have  walked 
so  swiftly.  Instead  of  dwelling  with  shadows  of  reali- 
ties the  most  terrible,  and  brooding  in  the  cell  of  a 
maniac,  I  might  have  now  communed  with  the  pure 
and  noble  of  earth. 


CHAPTER  III. 

The  old  log  school  house  —  My  studies  and  discontent —  My  first 
drink  of  liquor  —  The  companion  of  my  first  debauch  —  One 
drink  always  fatal  —  A  horrible  slavery  —  A  horseback  ride  on 
Sunday  —  Raleigh — Return  home — "Dead  drunk"  —  My  par- 
ents' shame  and  sorrow  —  My  own  remorse — An  unhappy  and 
silent  breakfast  —  The  anguish  of  my  mother  —  Gradual  recov- 
ery—  Resolves  and  promises  —  No  pleasure  in  drinking  —  The 
system's  final  craving  for  liquor  —  The  hopelessness  of  the  drunk- 
ard's condition  —  The  resistless  power  of  appetite  —  Possible 
escape  —  The  courage  required — The  three  laws  —  Their  viola- 
tion and  man's  atonement. 

When  I  first  started  to  school,  log  school  houses 
were  not  yet  things  of  the  past,  and  well  do  I  remem- 
ber the  one  which  stood  near  the  little  stream  known 
as  Hood's  creek,  and  Sam  Munger,  from  whom  I  first 
received  instruction.  The  next  school  I  attended  was 
in  a  log  house  near  where  Ammon's  mill  now  stands. 
1  attended  one  or  two  summer  terms  at  each  of  these 
places.  There  is  nothing  remarkable  connected  with 
my  early  school-days.  They  glided  onward  rapidly 
enough,  but  I  saw  and  felt  differently,  it  seemed  to 

(22) 


AUTOBIOGRAPHY  OF  LUTHER  BENSON.         23 

me,  from  those  around  me ;  but  this  may  be  the  ex- 
perience of  others,  only  I  think  the  melancholy,  the 
fear,  the  unhappiness  which  hung  over  me  were  not 
as  marked  in  any  one  else.  I  studied  but  little,  be- 
cause of  my  discontented  and  uneasy  feeling,  but  I 
kept  up  with  my  lessons,  and  have  yet  one  or  t\vo 
prizes  bestowed  on  me  twenty  years  ago  for  being  at 
the  head  of  my  class  the  greater  number  of  times. 

I  recollect  with  painful  clearness  the  first  drink  of 
liquor  that  ever  passed  my  lips.  It  has  been  more 
than  tventy-four  years  since  then,  but  my  memory 
calls  it  up  as  if  it  were  only  yesterday,  with  all  the 
circumstances  under  which  I  took  it.  It  was  in  the 
time  jf  threshing  wheat,  and  then,  as  in  harvesting, 
log-rolling,  and  everything  that  required  the  co- 
operation of  neighbors,  whisky  was  always  more  or 
less  used.  I  was  little  more  than  six  years  of  age. 
A  bottle  containing  liquor  was  set  in  the  shadow  of 
some  sheaves  of  wheat  which  stood  near  a  wagon, 
and  taking  it  I  crawled  under  the  wagon  with  a 
neighbor  now  living  in  Raleigh.  We  began  drink- 
ing from  this  bottle  and  did  not  stop  until  we  were 
both  pitiably  drunk.  The  boy  who  took  that  first 
drink  with  me  has  since  had  some  experience  with 
the  effects  of  alcohol,  but  at  this  time  he  is  bravely 
fighting  the  good  battle  of  sobriety  and  may  God 
give  him  the  victory.  I  never  could  taste 


24  FIFTEEN  YEARS  IN  HELL. 

liquor  without  getting  drunk.  When  one  drop  passed 
my  lips  I  became  wild  for  another,  and  another, 
until  my  sole  thought  was  how  to  get  enough  to 
satisfy  the  unquenchable  thirst.  To-day  if  I  were  to 
dip  the  point  of  a  needle  into  whisky  and  then  touch 
my  tongue  with  that  needle,  I  would  be  unable  to 
resist  the  burning  desire  to  drink  which  that  infini- 
tesimal atom  would  awaken.  I  would  get  drunk  if 
hell  burst  up  out  of  the  earth  around  me  —  yes,  if  I 
could  look  down  into  the  flames  and  see  men  whose 
eye-brows  were  burnt  off,  and  whose  every  hair  was 
a  burning,  blazing,  coiling,  hissing  snake  from  their 
having  used  the  deadly  liquid.  And  if  each  of  these 
countless  fiery  snakes  had  a  tongue  of  forked  fire  and 
could  be  heard  to  scream  for  miles,  and  I  knew  that 
another  drop  would  cause  them  to  lick  my  quivering 
flesh,  yet  would  I  take  it.  O  horror  of  horrors !  I 
would  plunge  into  the  flames  forever  and  ever.  After 
I  once  taste  I  am  powerless  to  resist.  When  I  was 
ten  years  of  age  I  went  one  Sunday  with  a  neighbor 
boy  several  years  older  than  I,  riding  on  horseback. 
The  course  we  took  was  a  favorite  one  with  me  for  it 
lad  toward  Raleigh,  just  north  of  which  place  I  con- 
trived to  get  a  pint  or  more  of  the  poison  called 
whisky.  The  doctor  from  whom  I  got  it  had,  of 
course,  no  idea  that  I  was  going  to  drink  it,  especially 
all  of  it,  but  drink  it  I  did,  getting  so  completely 


AUTOBIOGRAPHY  OF  LUTHER  BENSON.          25 

under  its  horrible  influence  that  when  I  arrived  at 
home  I  fell  senseless  against  the  door.  My  father 
and  mother  heard  me  fall  and  came  out  and  took  me 
into  the  house,  and  just  as  soon  as  the  heat  of  the  fire 
began  to  affect  me,  I  sank  into  a  dead  stupor ;  all 
consciousness  was  gone ;  all  feeling  was  destroyed  ;  all 
intelligence  was  obliterated.  I  lay  upon  my  bed  that 
night  wholly  oblivious  to  everything,  knowing  not, 
indeed,  that,  such  a  creature  as  myself  ever  existed. 
The  morning  came  at  last,  and  with  it  I  opened  my 
eyes.  Describe  who  can  the  thoughts  which  rushed 
through  my  distracted  brain.  For  a  little  while  I 
knew  not  where  I  was  or  what  I  had  done.  My  head 
was  throbbing,  aching,  bursting.  I  glanced  about 
me  and  on  either  side  of  my  bed  my  father  and 
mother  knelt  in  prayer!  Then  did  I  remember  what 
had  befallen  me,  and  so  keen  was  my  remorse  that  I 
thought  I  would  surely  die,  and,  in  fact,  I  wanted  to 
die.  O,  much  loved  parents — father  .on  earth  and 
mother  in  heaven  —  how  often  since  then  have  I  felt 
anew  the  shame  of  that  terrible  hour — how  often 
have  I  seen  your  sacred  faces,  wet  with  the  tears  of 
that  trial,  come  before  me,  looking  imploringly 
heavenward  as  if  beseeching  for  me  the  mercy  of  the 

infinite  God ! 

• 

That  morning  the  family  gathered  about  the  break- 
fast table,  but  what  a  shadow  rested   over  all.      A 


26  FIFTEEN   YEARS  IN  HELL. 

solemnity  of  silent  sorrow  was  upon  us.  The  peace 
of  yesterday  had  flown  with  my  return  home,  and  the 
dark  misery  of  my  soul  tinged  with  the  shade  of  the 
grave's  desolation  the  clouds  which  were  gathering  in 
our  sky.  O,  how  often  have  I  prayed  that  the  time 
"might  be  given  back,  and  that  it  might  be  in  my 
power  to  resist  the  curse;  but  the  past  is  implacable 
as  death,  and  I  must  bear  the  tortures  that  belong  to 
the  memory  of  that  most  unhappy  day.  That  day, 
and  for  many  succeeding  ones,  I  read  an  anguish  in 
the  saintly  face  of  my  mother  that  I  had  never  seen 
there  before.  My  father  also  bore  about  with  him  a 
look  of  deep  suffering  which  haunted  me  for  years. 
For  one  day  I  suffered  intensely  both  mentally  and 
physically,  but  being  of  a  strong,  vigorous,  and 
healthy  constitution,  I  was  almost  completely  restored 
by  the  following  morning.  Of  course  I  resolved  and 
promised  my  father  and  mother  that  I  would  never 
again  taste  liquor.  For  some  time  I  faithfully  kept 
my  promise,  and  for  weeks  the  very  thought  of  liquor 
was  revolting  to  me.  No  one  becomes  a  drunkard 
in  a  day  or  week.  Alcohol  is  a  subtle  poison,  and  it 
tikes  a  long  time  for  it  to  so  undermine  man's  system 
that  he  finds  life  almost  intolerable  unless  stimulated 
by  the  hell-broth  which  must  surely  destroy  him  in 
the  end,  unless  he  closes  his  lips  like  a  vise  against  it. 
But  for  me,  I  never  could  drink,  from  my  childhood, 


AUTOBIOGRAPHY  OF  LUTHER  BENSON.          27 

without  coming  under  the  influence  of  the  accursed 
poison.  I  never  ^rank  because  I  liked  the  taste  of 
liquor,  but  because  I  liked  the  first  effects  of  it.  I 
was  never  able  to  tt  11  good  liquor  or  rather  pure  alco- 
hol— for  such  a  thi.'g  as  good  liquor  has  never  been 
made — from  the  worst,  the  meanest,  manufactured 
from  drugs.  The  latter  may  be  more  speedy  than 
pure  alcohol,  but  either  will  destroy  with  fatal  cer- 
tainty and  rapidity.  I  drank,  as  I  have  said,  for  the 
effects,  and  in  the  first  years  of  my  drinking  my  first 
emotions  were  pleasurable.  It  sent  the  blood  rush- 
ing to  the  brain,  and  induced  a  succession  of  vivid 
and  pleasing  thoughts.  But  invariably  the  depres- 
sion that  followed  was  in  the  same  ratio  down  as  the 
former  was  up,  and  after  a  time  I  lost  that  first  pleas- 
ant, unnatural  feeling,  and  drank  only  to  satisfy  an 
indescribable  passion  or  craving.  At  first  the  wine 
glass  may  sparkle  and  foam,  but  let  it  never  be  for- 
gotten that  within  that  sparkle  and  foam  is  concealed 
the  glittering  eye  of  the  uncoiled  adder.  It  is  the 
sparkle  of  a  serpent's  skin,  the  foam  of  the  froth  of 
death.  Here  I  must  confess  that  for  the  past  five  cr 
six  years  I  have  not  been  able  to  attain  one  moments 
pleasure  from  drinking.  Every  glass  that  I  have 
touched  hjjs  proven  to  be  the  Dead  Sea's  fruit  of 
ashes  to  my  lips.  I  drank  wildly,  insanely,  and  be- 
came oblivious  for  days  and  weeks  together  to  all 


28  FIFTEEN  YEARS  IN  HELL. 

which  was  about  me,  and  finally  awoke  to  the  hor- 
rors which  I  had  sought  to  drown,  but  now  inten- 
sified a  thousand  fold.  No  man  ever  buried  sorrow  in 
drunkenness.  He  can  not  bury  it  that  way  any  more 
than  Eugene  Aram  could  bury  the  body  of  his  victim 
rvith  the  weeds  of  the  morass.  Whoever  seeks  solace 
in  whisky  will  curse  the  hour  which  saw  him  commit 
a  mistake  so  fatal.  Woe  to  him  who  looks  for  com- 
fort in  the  intoxicating  glass.  He  will  see  instead 
the  ghastly  face  of  murdered  hope,  the  distorted  vis- 
ion of  a  wasted  life,  his  own  bloated  corpse.  The 
habit  of  drink  after  a  time  becomes  more  than  a  mere 
habit;  the  system  comes  to  demand  and  crave  liquor, 
it  permeates  and  aifects  every  part  of  the  body  unti/ 
every  function  refuses  to  perform  its  part  until  it  ha. 
been  aroused  to  action  by  its  accustomed  stimulant. 

The  most  hopeless  and  wretched  slave  on  earth  is 
he  who  has  bound  himself  with  the  fetters  of  alcohol, 
and  it  is  a  sad  and  lamentable  truth  that  among  thou- 
sands very  few  ever  escape  from  the  soul-destroying, 
health-ruining  bondage  of  an  appetite  for  intoxicating 
drink.  There  is  only  one  here  and  there  of  all  the 
hosts  that  are  enchained  and  cursed  who  succeeds  in 
breaking  the  bonds  .which  bind  body,  soul  and  spirit. 
So  far  as  the  prospect  of  success  is  concerned  in 
winning  men  from  evil,  I  would  say,  let  me  go  to 
the  brazen-faced  and  foul-mouthed  blasphemer  of 


AUTOBIOGRAPHY  OF  LUTHER  BENSON.         29 

the  holy  Master's  name;  let  me  go  to  the  forger, 
who  for  long  years  has  been  using  satauic  cunning 
to  defraud  his  fellow-men ;  let  me  go  to  the  mur- 
derer, who  lies  in  the  shadow  of  the  gallows,  with 
red  hands  dripping  with  the  blood  of  innocence; 
but  send  me  not  to  the  lost  human  shape  whose  spirit 
is  on  fire,  and  whose  flesh  is  steaming  and  burning 
with  the  flames  of  hell.  And  why?  Because  his  will 
is  enthralled  in  the  direst  bondage  conceivable — his 
manhood  is  in  the  dust, 'and  a  demon  sits  in  the  char- 
iot of  his  soul,  lashing  the  fiery  steeds  of  passion  to 
maniacal  madness.  No  possible  motive  or  combina- 
tion of  motives  can  be  urged  upon  him  which  will 
stand  a  moment  before  the  infernal  clamorings  of  his 
appetite.  Wife,  children,  home,  relatives,  reputation, 
honor,  and  the  hope  and  prospect  of  heaven  itself,  all 
flee  before  this  fell  destroyer.  The  sufferings  and 
agonies  untold  of  one  human  soul  securely  bound  by 
the  chains  forged  by  rum  are  enough  to  make  angels 
weep  and  devils  laugh.  I  have  no  desire  to  discour- 
age those  who  have  this  habit  fastened  on  them.  I 
would  not  say  to  them :  You  can  not  break  away  from 
it.  I  would  do  all  in  my  power  to  aid  and  strengthen 
every  such  person  in  any  attempt  he  might  make  to 
be  free.  There  is  escape,  but  courage  is  required  to 
make  it,  and  greater  courage  than  has  ever  been  ex- 
hibited on  the  field  of  battle,  amid  the  thunders  of 


30  FIFTEEN  YEARS  IN  HELL. 

cannon,  the  roar  of  deadly  conflict,  the  gleam  of  sabre 
and  glitter  of  bayonet.  But  rather  than  die  the  drunk- 
ard's death,  and  go  to  the  drunkard's  eternal  doom, 
every  drunkard  can  afford  to  make  this  fight.  It 
were  better,  ten  thousand  times,  that  every  such  one 
should  do  as  I  have  done  —  voluntarily  go  to  an  asy- 
Juni  and  be  restrained  until  he  so  far  recovers  that  he 
can  of  his  own  will  resist  temptation.  And  there  is 
another  aid  —  a  strength  stronger  than  our  own  — 
God!  He  will  help  every  unfortunate  one  that  goes 
to  him  in  sincerity  and  humbly  implores  the  divine 
aid. 

I  desire  here  to  make  a  statement  in  justice  to 
myself.  There  are  three  laws,  the  human,  the  natu- 
ral and  the  divine.  You  may  violate  a  human  law, 
and  the  judge,  if  he  sees  fit,  may  pardon  your  offense. 
If  you  violate  the  divine  law,  God  has  prepared  a 
way  of  escape,  arid  promises  pardon  on  conditions 
within  the  reach  of  all,  but  for  a  violation  of  that 
which  I  call  natural  law,  there  is  no  forgiveness. 
The  penalty  for  every  such  violation  must  be,  and  is, 
fully  paid  every  time,  and  while  natural  laws  are  as 
much  a  part  of  God's  creation  as  the  divine,  he  would 
no  more  set  aside  a  penalty  for  a  violation  of  one  of 
nature's  laws  than  he  would  blot  out  a  part  of  his 
written  word.  Yet  there  are  recuperative  powers 
and  forces  in  nature  that  are  wonderful,  and  there  is 


AUTOBIOGRAPHY  OF  LUTHER  BENSON.         31 

a  spiritual  strength  that  helps  us  to  bear,  and  over- 
come, and  endure  every  affliction.  I  was  made  a  new 
creature  in  Christ  Jesus  at  Jeffersonville,  Indiana,  on 
the  21st  of  last  January,  and  had  I  then  gone  to 
work  to  recuperate  and  restore  by  all  natural  means, 
my  broken  body,  I  am  most  certain  that  I  never 
again  would  have  tasted  liquor;  but  instead  of  using 
the  means  God  had  placed  about  me,  in  the  su- 
preme ecstacy  which  comes  to  a  redeemed,  a  new- 
born soul,  I  went  to  work  ten  times  more  laboriously 
than  ever,  and  soon  completely  exhausted  my  bodily 
strength.  My  system  was  drained  of  every  particle 
of  its  power  to  resist  the  slightest  attack  of  any  kind 
whatsoever,  much  less  to  make  a  successful  struggle 
against  my  great  enemy,  and  so,  physically  and  men- 
tally exhausted  when  I  was  assailed  by  the  black,  foul 
fiend  of  alcohol,  I  fell,  and  fell  a  second  time.  I 
resolved,  yea,  took  an  oath  the  most  solemn,  that 
rather  than  again  be  overtaken  by  a  disaster  so  dire, 
I  would  have  myself  entombed  within  an  asylum  for 
the  insane.  Here  at  last,  I  was  placed,  and  here  I 
intend  to  remain  until  nature  shall  restore  to  my 
body  sufficient  strength  to  resist,  with  God's  help, 
the  next  and  every  attack  of  my  enemy.  As  God  is 
my  witness,  I  had  rather  remain  within  these  walls 
and  listen  to  the  cries  of  the  worst  maniac  here,  from 
day  to  day,  until  the  last  hour  of  my  life  —  yes,  and 


32  FIFTEEN  YEARS  IN  HELL. 

die  and  be  Juried  here  in  the  pauper's  graveyard, 
than  ever  again  go  out  and  drink.  And  now  as  I 
close  this  chapter  with  a  full  heart,  I  go  down  on  my 
knees  in  supplication  to  God  for  strength  arnd  grace 
to  keep  me  from  that  which  has  wrecked  all  my  life 
and  made  it  a  continued  round  of  sorrow  and  shame. 
I  ask  every  one  who  reads  this  chapter,  to  pray  to 
God  for  me  with  all  your  heart  and  soul.  Oh !  men 
and  women,  pray  for  wretched,  miserable,  sorrowing, 
suffering,  lonely  me. 


CHAPTER  IV. 

School  iiayi  at  Fairview — My  first  public  outbreak — A  school- 
mate—Drive to  Falmouth — First  drink  at  Falmouth — Disap- 
pointment— Drive  to  Smelser's  Mills — Hostetter's  Bitters — The 
author's  opinion  of  patent  medicines,  bitters  especially — Boast- 
ing— More  liquor — Difficulty  in  lighting  a  cigar — A  hound  that 
got  in  bad  company — Oysters  at  Falmouth,  and  what  befell  us 
while  waiting  for  them — Drunken  slumber — A  hound  in  a  crib — 
Getting  awake — The  owner  of  the  hound — Sobriety — The  Vienna 
jug — Another  debauch — The  exhibition — The  end  of  the  school 
term — Starting  to  college  at  Cincinnati — My  companions — The 
destruction  wrought  by  alcohol — Dr.  Johnson's  declaration  con- 
cerning the  indulgence  of  this  vice — A  warning — A  dangerous 
fallacy — Byron's  inspiration — Lord  Brougham — Sheridan — Sue — 
Swinburne — Dr.  Carpenter's  opinion — An  erroneous  idea — Tem- 
perance the  best  aid  to  thought. 

At  the  age  of  sixteen  I  started  to  school  at  Fair- 
view,  then  as  now,  an  insignificant  but  pretty  village, 
some  four  miles  from  where  my  father  lived.  William 
M.  Thrasher,  at  this  time  Professor  of  Mathematics 
in  the  Butler  University,  at  Irvington,  near  Indian- 
apolis, was  the  teacher  in  charge  of  that  school,  and  it 
3  (33) 


34  FIFTEEN  YEARS  IN  HELL. 

is  to  him  that  I  am  under  obligations  for  about  all 
the  "book  learning"  that  I  possess.  True,  I  went  to 
college  after  that,  but  J  merely  skimmed  over  the 
studies  there  assigned  me.  While  at  school  at  Fair- 
view  I  improved  every  opportunity  to  drink.  A 
fatal  instinct  guided  me  to  the  rum  shop.  It  was 
during  the  first  winter  of  my  attendance  at  the  Fair- 
view  school  that  I  was  guilty  of  my  first  debauch.  A 
young  man  from  Connersville  came  over  to  attend 
school,  and  I  would  remark  in  passing  that  his  father 
was  chiefly  interested  in  sending  him  to  Fairview 
because  he  thought*  that  his  boy  would  here  be  out 
of  temptation.  He  arrived  at  noon  one  day,  and  we 
were  immediately  made  acquainted  with  each  other, 
an  acquaintance  which  ripened  into  friendship  on  the 
spot.  The  roads  were  in  good  condition  for  sleigh- 
ing, and  the  next  morning  I  proposed  a  ride.  He 
gladly  accepted  my  invitation,  and  together  we  drove 
to  Falmouth.  At  Falmouth  we  each  took  a  drink, 
and  this  fired  us  with  a  desire  for  more.  We  drove 
to  a  house  not  far  away  where  liquor  was  kept  by  the 
barrel,  and  tried  to  get  some,  but  failed — for  we 
waited  and  waited  to  be  invited  in  vain — for  no  invita- 
tion was  extended  to  us.  Disappointed  and  half  crazy 
for  whisky,  we  left  the  house  and  started  on  further  in 
pursuit  of  the  curse.  After  driving  about  eight  miles 
we  halted  at  a  place  called  Smelser's  Mills,  where  we 


AUTOBIOGRAPHY  OF  LUTHER  BENSON.         35 

were  supplied  with  a  bottle  of  Hostetter's  Bitters, 
which  we  drank  without  delay,  and  which  was  strong 
enough  to  make  us  reasonably  drunk,  but  which, 
nevertheless,*did  not  come  up  to  our  ideas  of  what 
liquor  should  be.  My  experience  has  been  that  about 
the  worst  and  cheapest  whisky  ever  sold  is  that  sold 
under  the  name  of  "bitters,"  and  it  costs  more  than 
the  best  in  the  market.  Excuse  the  word  "best," 
but  certain  parts  of  Dante's  hell  are  good  by  compar- 
ison. I  say  to  all  and  every  one,  shun  every  drink 
that  intoxicates,  and  shun  nothing  quicker  than  the 
patent  medicines  which  contain  liquor,  and  while  you 
are  about  it,  shun  patent  medicines  which  do  not  con- 
tain liquor.  The  chances  are  that  they  contain  a 
deadlier  poison  called  opium.  At  any  rate  they  sel- 
dom cure  and  often  kill. 

After  drinking  our  bottle  of  poisonous' slop  —  that 
is,  Hostetter's  Bitters  —  my  friend  and  I  began  to 
boast,  and  each  labored  hard  to  impress  the  other 
with  his  greatness.  In  order  to  make  the  proper  im- 
pression, we  agreed  that  it  was  highly  important  that 
we  should  demonstrate  the  large  quantity  we  could 
drink  and  still  be  reasonably  sober.  I  knew  of  a 
place  a  few  miles  further  on — a  place  called  Hittle's — 
where  I  felt  sure  I  could  get  whisky  without  an  im- 
mediate outlay  of  cash,  a  consideration  of  importance 
since  neither  I  nor  my  friend  had  a  penny.  We  went 


36  FIFTEEN  YEARS  IN  HELL. 

to  Hittle's,  and  there  I  was  successful  in  an  attempt 
to  get  a  quart  of  whisky,  which  we  at  once  proceeded 
to  mix  with  the  Hostetter  article  already  burning  up 
the  lining  of  our  stomachs.  The  effect  was  not  long 
in  appearing,  for  in  a  little  while  we  were  both  very 
I'mnk,  and  I  in  particular  was  in  the  condition  best 
described  as  howling,  crazy  drunk.  We  stopped  at 
a  house  to  light  our  cigars  —  for  of  course  we  both 
smoked  and  chewed  tobacco  —  and  as  my  friend  did 
not  feel  like  getting  out,  I  reeled  into  the  kitchen  and 
picked  up  a  shovelful  of  coals,  which  I  lifted  so 
near  my  mouth  that  I  scorched  my  hair  and  burnt 
my  face,  and,  worse  than  all,  singed  the  faint  sugges- 
tion of  a  mustache  that  was  visible  by  the  aid  of  a 
microscope,  on  my  upper  lip.  While  I  was  engaged 
in  lighting  my  cigar,  a  large  dog  —  a  tall,  lean,  much- 
ribbed,  lank  and  hungry-looking  hound  —  went  out 
to  the  sleigh,  and  my  friend  induced  him  to  accept 
passage  with  us;  so  when  I  got  back  to  my  seat  it 
was  proposed  that  the  hound  should  accompany  us. 
I  have  often  wondered  since  if  he  was  not  heartily 
ashamed  of  being  seen  in  our  company  that  day;  but 
we  made  a  martyr  of  him  all  the  same. 

We  drove  off  with  a  succession  of  whoops  and 
yells,  and  carried  the  hound  in  front.  Our  first  halt 
was  at  Falmouth,  where  we  ordered  oysters.  The 
room  in  which  we  sat  at  table  was  quite  small,  and  a 


AUTOBIOGRAPHY  OF  LUTHER  BENSON.         37 

large  stove  whose  sides  were  red  with  heat  made  it 
uncomfortably  hot  —  especially  for  us  who  were 
already  in  a  sultry  state.  I  had  not  sat  at  the  table 
a  minute  when  I  fell  from  my  chair  against  the  stove. 
My  leg  struck  a  hinge  of  the  door,  and  as  my  friend 
was  too  much  overcome  to  realize  my  condition,  I  lay 
there  until  the  hinge  burnt  a  hole  through  the  leg  of 
my  pantaloons  and  then  into  the  flesh.  I  carry  a 
scar  to-day  in  memory  of  that  time,  and  the  scar  is 
about  three  inches  long.  The  burn  was  over  half 
an  inch  in  depth.  God  only  knows  what  might  have 
been  the  final  result  had  not  assistance  soon  come  in 
the  person  of  the  owner  of  the  house.  He  called  for 
help,  and  as  soon  as  it  arrived  we  were  placed  in  our 
sleigh,  and  by  a  kind  of  instinct  drove  to  Fairview. 
It  was  dark  by  the  time  we  got  into  Fairview,  but 
we  contrived  to  get  our  horse  within  the  stable  and 
that  unfortunate  hound  into  a  corn-crib,  in  which 
durance  he  howled  so  vigorously  that  the  wild  winds 
which  whistled  and  shrieked  around  the  barn  could 
not  be  heard  for  him.  His  complaining  lasted  all 
night,  and  I  do  not  think  any  one  within  a  mile  of  the 
crib  slept  that  night,  my  friend  and  myself  excepted. 
Ay,  we  slept  —  slept  as  I  have  so  often  slept  since  — 
a  .slumber  as  deep  and  oblivious  as  death  —  a  drunken 
sleep,  from  which  we  awoke  to  suffer  hell's  tortures  so 
justly  merited  by  our  conduct.  I  awoke  with  a 


38  FIFTEEN  YEARS  IN  HELL. 

throbbing,  aching  heart,  but  by  slow  degrees  did  I 
become  conscious  that  I  had  been  somewhere  in  a 
sleigh  and  done  something  either  very  desperate  or 
very  foolish,  or  both.  At  first  my  mind  was  so  mud- 
dled, so  beclouded  with  the  fumes  of  the  infernal  "  bit- 
ters" and  whisky  that  I  thought  I  had  burned  a  city. 
While  I  was  trying  to  solve  the  mystery  of  my 
course,  I  was  aided  by  a  revelation  so  sudden  that  it 
startled  me,  for  the  owner  of  the  hound  came  gallop- 
ing up  and  fiercely  demanded  to  know  where  his  dog 
was.  He  rated  us  severely  —  accused  us  of  stealing 
the  animal,  and  threatened  to  prosecute  us  then  and 
there.  I  knew  what  we  had  done.  In  the  meantime 
some  one  opened  the  door  of  the  crib  and  turned  out 
the  hound.  He  must  have  recognized  the  voice  of  his 
master,  for  he  joined  the  latter  in  his  howling,  and 
between  them  they  gave  us  good  reason  to  wish  that 
our  ambition  to  keep  that  dog's  company  had  been  in 
vain.  The  dog  was  more  easily  pacified  than  the 
man,  but  finally  on  our  offering  to  give  him  three 
plugs  of  tobacco  to  hush  up  the  affair,  he  became 
quiet  and  smoothed  the  ragged  front  of  his  auger. 
On  adding  a  cigar  or  two  to  the  plugs,  he  brightened 
up  and  said  we  might  have  the  "  darned  houn'"  any 
how,  if  we  wanted  him.  But  we  had  had  enough  of 
his  society  and  were  willing  to  part  from  him  without 
further  expense. 


AUTOBIOGRAPHY  OF  LUTHER  BENSON.          39 

I  don't  think,  seriously  speaking,  that  I  ever  suf- 
fered more  keenly  from  the  stings  of  remorse  and  fear 
than  I  did  for  one  week  after  this  debauch.  The  re- 
markable part  of  it  to  me  was  our  determination  to 
take  the  dog.  All  my  life  I  have  disliked  dogs — 
dogs  in  general  and  hounds  in  particular.  I  resolved 
never  to  drink  again,  and  for  some  time  kept  the  res- 
olution. 

A  few  weeks  following  this  "  spree  "  there  was  an 
exhibition  at  the  school  house,  and  several  of  the 
larger  beys  —  myself  among  the  number  —  assembled 
themselves  together,  and,  after  a  consultation,  decided 
that,  in  order  to  make  the  exhibition  a  success,  there 
shouH  be  a  limited  amount  of  whisky  secured  fpr  our 
spec:al  use.  We  took  up  a  collection,  each  contribu- 
ting a  few  cents,  and  two  of  the  largest,  tallest,  and 
stoutest  boys  were  dispatched  to  Vienna,  a  small  vil- 
lage three  miles  distant,  to  get  it.  A  vision  of  hounds 
passed  before  me,  but  the  desire  to  get  a  drink  drove 
them  yelping  out  of  memory.  The  boys,  on  reaching 
Vienna,  bargained  for  three  gallons  of  liquor,  and 
brought  it  to  our  general  headquarters.  It  was 
wretched  stuff — the  vilest,  meanest,  rottenest  poison 
that  ever  went  under  the  name  of  whisky.  The  boys 
who  got  it  had  carried  it  the  three  miles  by  passing  a 
stick  through  the  handle  of  the  jug.  They  got  drunk 
on  the  way  back  with  it,  and  one  of  them  fell  into  a 


40  FIFTEEN  YEARS  IN  HELL. 

branch,  dragging  the  jug  and  the  other  boy  after  him. 
Unfortunately  the  jug  was  not  broken,  and  fortun- 
ately the  boys  were  not  seriously  hurt.  It  was  a  lit- 
tle after  dark  when  they  stumbled  across  the  meeting 
house  yard  to  where  we  awaited  them.  The  follow- 
ing day  we  attacked  the  contents  of  the  jug,  and  be- 
fore midnight  we  were  all  drunk  —  some  rather  mod- 
erately drunk,  some  very  drunk,  and  some  dead 
drunk,  as  the  phrase  is.  I  myself  was  of  the  num- 
ber that  were  dead  drunk.  Some  of  the  boys  kept 
sober  enough  to  fight,  but  I  never  would  fight,  drunk 
or  sober.  I  do  not  think  I  am  a  coward  as  regards 
personal  courage,  and  I  really  think  the  fear  of  hurt- 
ing others  restrained  me  from  ever  mixing  in  brawls 
in  those  days. 

As  the  night  wore  away  two  or  three  of  the  boys 
became  sober  enough  to  hide  the  jug,  which  they 
concealed  in  a  corn-shock.  These  dragged  the  rest 
of  us  to  bed,  although  one  of  the  party  woke  up  in 
the  wood-box  with  his  head  downward  and  his  feet 
dangling  over  the  top  of  the  box.  Only  those  who 
have  been  so  unfortunate  as  to  be  in  a  similar  condi- 
tion can  realize  our  state  of  mental  and  physical 
feeling.  Parched  lips,  scalded'  tongues,  cracked 
throats,  throbbing  temples,  and  burning  shame  were 
indisputably  ours.  So  we  awoke  on  the  morning  of 
the  day  set  apart  for  the  exhibition,  an  exhibition 


AUTOBIOGRAPHY  OF  LUTHER  BENSON.         41 

in  which  we  were  to  appear  before  our  respected 
teacher,  friends  and  relatives,  besides  all  the  people 
of  the  surrounding  country.  Early  in  the  day  we 
commenced  to  get  ready  for  the  afternoon's  work  by 
resorting  to  the  same  jug  that  so  recently  had  bereft 
us  temporarily  of  reason,  and  laid  us  in  the  mud  and 
enow.  I  only  got  one  big  drink  of  the  poison  and  so 
contrived  to  get  through  passably  well  with  my  part 
of  the  performance  ;  some  of  the  boys  got  too  much, 
and  failed  to  remember  anything,  so  that  they  failed 
utterly  and  hid  behind  the  curtains,  and,  taken  all  in 
all,  we  did  little  or  nothing  toward  the  success  of  the 
exhibition  or  to  making  those  interested  gratified  with 
our  parts.  Some  of  the  boys  who  figured  on  the 
stage  that  day  are  dead ;  but  others  are  alive  and  of 
those  I  am  not  the  only  one  writhing  in  the  coils  of 
the  serpent  of  alcohol,  though  not  one  of  them  has 
fallen  so  low  as  I.  If  at  that  time  I  might  have  been 
permitted  to  lift  the  curtain  and  looked  down  future- 
ward  through  the  unlighted  years  of  shame,  and 
weariness,  and  suffering,  I  think  the  dreadful  vision 
would  have  stayed  me  forever  in  a  career  which  has 
Duly  grown  darker  and  more  unendurable  with  every 
step.  I  kept  on  much  in  the  same  way,  increasing  in 
length  and  frequency  my  ever  recurring  debauches, 
until  the  end  of  the  school  term. 

I  was  well  nigh  twenty  years  of  age,  and  from  this 


42  FIFTEEN  YEARS  IN  HELL. 

place  went  to  Cincinnati  to  attend  college.  Here  the 
opportunities  to  gratify  my  hereditary  appetite,  made 
keen  and  sharp,  and  ever  keener  and  sharper  by  in- 
dulgence, were  all  about  me.  My  companions  were 
older  and  further  advanced  on  the  road  to  ruin  than 
I.  My  steps  were  more  swift  than  ever  before  to 
tread  the  path  which  leads  surely  to  the  everlasting 
bonfire.  I  could  not  fail  to  notice  while  at  college 
that  the  most  brilliant  and  intellectual — those  whose 
future  prospects  were  the  most  pleasing  and  bright — 
were  the  very  ones  who  most  frequently  drowned 
their  hopes,  and  sapped  their  strength  and  energy  in 
alcoholic  stimulants.  O,  vividly  do  I  recall  to  mind 
examples  of  heaven-bestowed  genius,  talent,  health, 
and  abilities,  sacrificed  on  the  worse  than  bloody  teo- 
calli  of  this  hideous  and  slimy  devil,  Intemperance! 
How  many  master  minds,  instead  of  progressing  sub- 
limely through  the  broad,  deep,  and  august  channels 
of  thought,  became  impeded  by  the  meshes  and  clogs 
of  intoxication,  and  were  thus  worse  than  prevented 
from  exploring  the  regions  of  immortal  truth !  How 
many  dallied  with  the  sirens  of  the  wine  cup,  until 
all  power  to  grapple  with  great  subjects  was  lost 
irrevocably!  How  many  are  the  instances  in  the 
world's  history  of  great  minds  debased  and  ruined  by 
alcohol !  Look  back  and  around  you  at  the  lives  of 
the  brightest  literary  geniuses  and  see  how  many  are 


AUTOBIOGRAPHY  OF  LUTHER  BENSON.         43 

under  the  spell  of  this  Circe's  baleful  power!  Think 
of  the  rich  intelligences  whose  brightness  has  prema- 
turely faded  and  died  away  in  the  darkness  of  alco- 
holic night !  What  hopes  has  alcohol  destroyed ! 
What,  resolves  it  has  broken!  What  promises  it  has 
blighted!  Think  of  any  or  of  all  these  things,  aid 
hasten  to  say  with  Dr.  Johnson  that  this  vice  of  drinkj 
if  long  indulged,  will  render  knowledge  useless,  wit 
ridiculous,  and  genius  contemptible.  Oh!  how  many 
lost  sons  of  earth,  whose  lamps  of  genius  blazed  only 
to  light  their  pathway  to  the  tomb,  might  have 
achieved  an  inheritance  of  immortal  fame  but  for  this 
vice,  or  disease  as  it  may  be. 

I  write  this  with  a  hope  that  it  may  be  a  heeded 
warning  to  the  intellectual  of  earth,  not  less  than  the 
illiterate.  The  educated  man  is  more  liable  to  suffer 
from  strong  stimulants  than  the  man  who  is  not  edu- 
cated. Never  was  tl^re  a  greater  or  more  dangerous 
fallacy  than  that  so  often  urged,  that  the  thinking 
functions  are  assisted  by  the  use  of  stimulating  liquors 
or  drugs.  O,  say  some,  Byron  owed  a  great  portion 
of  his  inspiration  to  gin  and  water,  and  that  \vas  his 
Hippocrene.  Nonsense !  His  highest  inspiration 
came  from  the  beauty  of  the  world  and  from  God. 
Lord  Brougham,  it  has  been  declared,  made  his  most 
brilliant  speeches  of  old  port.  Sheridan,  it  has  been 
told,  delivered  some  of  his  most  sparkling  speeches 


44  FIFTEEN  YEARS  IN  HELL. 

when  "  half  seas  over."  Eugene  Sue  found  his  genius 
in  a  bottle  of  claret ;  Swinburne  in  absinthe,  and  so  on. 
But  who  shall  say  what  these  great  men  lost  and  will 
lose  in  the  end  by  this  forcing  process?  Dr.  "W.  B. 
Carpenter,  in  referring  to  the  supposed  uses  of  alco- 
hol in  sustaining  the  vital  powers,  says  emphatically 
that  the  use  of  alcoholic  stimulants  is  dangerous  and 

detrimental  to  the  human  mind,  but  admits  that  its 

» 

use  in  most  persons  is  attended  with  a  temporary  ex- 
citation of  mental  activity,  lighting  up  the  scintilla- 
tions of  genius  into  a  brilliant  flame,  or  assisting  m 
the  prolongation  of  mental  effort  when  the  powers  of 
the  nervous  system  would  be  otherwise  exhausted. 
Concede  this,  and  then  answer  if  it  is  not  on  such 
evidence  that  the  common  idea  is  based  that  alcohol 
is  a  cause  of  inspiration,  or  that  it  supports  the  system 
to  the  endurance  of  unusual  mental  labor.  The  idea 
is  as  erroneous  as  the  no  less  prevalent  fallacy  that 
alcoholic  stimulants  increase  the  power  of  physical 
exertion.  Physiologically  the  fact  is  established  that 
the  depression  of  the  mental  energy  consequent  upon 
the  undue  excitement  of  alcoholic  stimulants  is  no 
)>ss  than  the  depression  of  the  physical  energy  follow- 
ing its  use.  In  either  case  the  added  strength  and 
exhilaration  are  of  short  duration,  and  the  depression 
and  loss  exceed  the  increased  energy  and  the  gain. 
The  influence  of  alcoholic  stimulants  seems  to  be  chiefly 


AUTOBIOGRAPHY  OF  LUTHER  BENSON,         45 

exerted  in  exciting  to  activity  the  creating  and  com- 
bining powers,  such  as  give  rise  to  the  high  imagina- 
tions of  the  poet  and  the  painter.  It  is  not  to  be 
wondered  at  that  men  possessing  such  splendid  pow- 
ers should  have  recourse  to  alcoholic  stimulants  as  a 
means  of  procuring  often  temporary  exaltation  of 
ihese  powe/s  and  of  escaping  from  the  seasons  of  de- 
pression to  which  they  and  others  of  less  high  organ- 
izations are  subject.  Nor  is  it  to  be  denied  that  many 
of  these  mental  productions  which  are  most  strongly 
marked  by  tne  inspiration  of  genius,  have  been  thrown 
off  under  the  inspiration  of  the  stimulating  influences 
of  liquor.  But  it  can  not,  on  the  other  hand,  be 
joubted  that  the  depression  consequent  upon  the  high 
legree  of  mental  excitement  is,  as  already  observed, 
as  great  as  the  first  in  its  way  —  a  depression  so  great 
that  it  sometimes  destroys  temporarily  the  power  of 
effort.  Hence  it  does  not  follow  that  the  authors  of 
ihe  productions  in  question  have  really  been  benefited 
by  the  use  of  these  stimulants. 

It  is  the  testimony  of  general  experience  that  where 
inen  of  genius  have  habitually  had  recourse  to  alco- 
holic stimulants  for  the  excitement  of  their  powers 
they  have  died  at  an  early  age,  as  if  in  consequence 
of  the  premature  exhaustion  of  their  nervous  energy. 
Mozart,  Burns,  Byron,  Poe  and  Chatterton  may  be 
cited  as  remarkable  examples  of  this  result.  Hence, 


46  FIFTEEN  YEARS  IN  HELL. 

although  their  light  may  have  burned  with  a  brignte. 
glow,  like  a  combustible  substance  in  an  atmosphere  of 
oxygen,  the  consumption  of  material  was  more  rapid^ 
and  though  it  may  have  shone  with  a  more  sober 
lustre  without  such  aid,  we  can  not  but  believe  that  it 
t-ould  have  been  steadier  and  less  premature  without 
ic.  We  may  also  doubt  that  the  finest  poems  and  the 
finest  pictures  have  been  written  and  painted  even  by 
those  in  the  habit  of  drinking  while  they  were  under 
the  influence  of  liquor.  We  do  not  usually  find  that 
the  men  most  distinguished  for  a  combination  of  pow- 
ers called  talent  or  genius,  are  disposed  to  make  such 
use  of  alcoholic  stimulants  for  the  purpose  of  augment- 
ing their  mental  powers,  for  that  spontaneous  activity 
of  mind  itself  which  alcohol  has  a  tendency  to  excite 
is  not  favorable  to  the  exercise  of  the  observing  fac- 
ulties, which  are  so  important  to  the  imagination,  nor 
to  those  of  reason,  nor  to  steady  concentration  on  any 
given  subject,  where  profound  investigation  or  clear 
eight  is  desirable. 

Of  this  we  have  an  illustration  in  the  habit  of 
practical  gamblers  who,  when  about  to  engage  in 
contests  requiring  the  keenest  observation  and  the 
most  sagacious  calculation,  and  involving  an  import- 
ant stake,  always  keep  themselves  cool  either  by  total 
abstinence  from  fermented  liquors,  or  by  the  use  of 


AUTOBIOGRAPHY  OF  LUTHER  BENSON.         47 

those  of  the  weakest  kind,  in  very  small  quantities. 
We  find  that  the  greatest  part  of  that  intellectual 
labor  which  has  most  extended  the  domain  of  thought 
and  human  knowledge  has  been  performed  by  men 
of  sobriety,  many  of  them  having  been  drinkers  of 
water  only.  Under  this  last  category  may  be  ranked 
Demosthenes,  Johnson,  Haller,  Bacon,  Milton,  Dante, 
etc.  Johnson,  it  is  true,  was  a  great  tea  drinker. 
Voltaire  drank  coffee  at  times  to  excess,  and  occa- 
sionally a  small  quantity  of  light  wine.  So,  also,  did 
Fontenelle.  Newton  solaced  himself  with  the  fumes 
of  tobacco.  Of  Locke,  whose  long  life  was  devoted 
to  constant  intellectual  labor,  who  appears  independ- 
ently of  his  eminence  in  his  special  objects  of  pursuit 
one  of  the  best  informed  men  of  his  time,  the  follow- 
ing explicit  testimony  is  found  by  one  who  knew  him 
well :  His  diet  was  the  same  as  that  of  other  people, 
except  he  usually  drank  nothing  but  water,  and  he 
thought  that  his  abstinence  in  this  respect  had  pre- 
served his  life  so  long,  although  naturally  his  consti- 
tution was  so  weak.  In  addition  to  these  examples, 
which  I  have  quoted  at  length,  I  might  also  mention 
the  case  of  Cornaro,  the  old  Italian  philosopher,  who 
at  the  age  of  thirty-five  found  himself  on  a  bed  of 
misery  and  imminent  death  through  intemperance. 
He  amended  his -way  of  life,  and  for  upwards  of  four 


48  FIFTEEN  YEARS  IN  HELL. 

score  years  after,  by  a  temperate  course  of  living, 
lived  happily  and  did  all  the  important  work  which 
has  placed  his  name  among  the  men  of  great  intel- 
lectual powers. 


CHAPTER  V. 

<jait  college  —  Shattered  nerves  —  Summer  and  autumn  days— - 
Improvement — Picnic  parties — A  fall — An  untimely  storm  — 
Crawford's  beer  and  ale — Beer  brawls — County  fairs  and  their 
influence  on  my  life  —  My  yoke  of  white  oxen  —  The  "red 
ribbon"  —  "One  McPhillipps  " — How  I  got  home  and  howl 
found  myself  in  the  morning — My  mother's  agony — A  day  of 
teaching  under  difficulties — Quiet  again — Law  studies  at  Con- 
nersville —  "  Out  on  a  spree  "  —  What  a  spree  means. 

I  left  college  in  the  spring  of  1866,  and  returned 
home  to  the  farm  where  I  spent  the  summer  and 
autumn  months  in  a  very  nervous  and  discontented 
manner.  For  over  four  months  my  mental  condition 
bordered  on  that  of  a  maniac,  so  completely  had  the 
use  of  liquor  shattered  my  nervous  system.  I 
became  alarmed  at  my  state,  and  for  a  time  was 
deterred  from  drinking,  or,  if  I  drank  at  all,  the 
quantity  was  small.  But  fresh  air  and  the  little  work 
which  I  did  on  the  farm,  soon  restored  me.  As  the 
summer  wore  away  I  attended  pleasure  parties,  and 
found,  not  happiness,  but  a  moment's  forgetful 
4  (49) 


50  FIFTEEN  YEARS  IN  HELL. 

among  the  merry  picnic  parties  in  the  woods.  I 
had  also  the  distinguished  honor  of  actually  superin- 
tending and  presiding  over  two  of  these  festivities, 
both  of  which  were  held  in  Horace  Elwell's  woods, 
on  the  unsung,  but  classically  rustic  banks  of  Tom. 
Hall's  mill-dam,  near  the  village  which  bears  the 
historic  and  great  name  of  Raleigh.  I  succeeded  in 
tiding  myself  through  the  first  picnic  without  getting 
drunk.  I  mean  more  particularly  that  I  remained 
sober  during  the  day — that  is,  sober  enough  to  keep 
it  from  being  known  that  I  had  drank  more  than 
once  or  twice;  but  that  night  at  the  ball  at  Louis- 
ville, I  bit  the  dust,  or,  to  get  at  the  truth  more 
literally  and  unrhetorically,  I  fell  down  stairs  and 
came  within  a  point  of  breaking  my  neck.  Had  I 
been  sober  the  fall  would  have  put  an  end  then  and 
there  to  my  miserable  and  worthless  existence ;  but 
lest  any  one  should  argue  from  this  that  after  all 
whisky  sometimes  saves  life,  I  would  have  them  bear 
in  mind  that  if  I  had  been  sober  the  chances  are  I 
would  not  have  fallen. 

The  next  picnic  was  sadly  interfered  with  by  a  vio- 
lent storm  of  wind  and  rain,  which  came  up  the  day 
before  the  one  set  apart  foi  it.  The  water  washed 
the  sawdust  which  had  been  sprinkled  on  the  ground 
for  the  dancers'  benefit  into  Hall's  fretful  mill-race, 
and  thence  down  into  the  turbulent  and  swollen  Flat 


AUTOBIOGRAPHY  OF  LUTHER  BENSON.          §]_ 

Rock.  This,  as  well  as  other  creeks,  became  so  high 
that  it  was  out  of  the  question  to  ford  them.  The 
boys  could  get  to  the  grounds  very  well,  and  many  of 
them  did  get  there,  but  the  girls  were  not  of  a  mind 
to  risk  their  lives  for  a  day's  doubtful  amusement, 
and  so  the  picnic  failed  in  the  beginning.  The  young 
men  —  myself,  of  course,  in  the  lot — determined  to 
have  what  was  called  "  fun  "  at  any  rate,  and  to  this 
end  they  congregated  during  the  day  at  Raleigh. 
Mr.  Sam  Crawford  had  an  abundant  supply  of  beer 
and  ale,  and  I  wish  to  say  that  if  there  are  any  per- 
sons so  innocent  as  to  doubt  that  beer  and  ale  intoxi- 
cate they  would  change  from  doubt  to  faith  in  the 
power  of  these  slops  to  make  men  drunk,  could  they 
experience  or  see  what  took  place  at  Raleigh  on  that 
day.  They  would  be  willing  to  testify  in  any  court 
that  beer  will  not  only  intoxicate,  but,  taken  in 
sufficient  quantities,  it  will  make  men  beastly  drunk 
and  fill  them  with  a  spirit  of  fiendish  cruelty.  There 
were  on  that  day  as  many  as  four  fights,  with  enough 
miscellaneous  howling,  cursing  and  billingsgate  to  fill 
out  the  natural  make-up  of  a  hundred  more.  I  was 
Jrunk — so  drunk  that  I  did  not  know  at  the  last 
whether  my  name  was  Benson  or  Bennington.  I  sup- 
pose I  would  have  sworn  to  the  latter,  had  the  ques- 
tion been  raised,  but  it  was  not.  I  did  not  fight,  for, 
as  I  have  said,  I  seemed  to  have  an  instinctive  dread 


52  FIFTEEN   YEARS  IN  HELL. 

of  doing  something  terrible  in  the  event  of  my  getting 
engaged  in  combat  with  another.  Like  Falstaff,  it 
may  be,  I  was  a  coward  on  instinct.  I  have  always 
thought,  moreover,  that  the  Hudibrastic  aphorism  is 
worthy  of  practice,  because  nothing  can  be  more 
evident  than  the  fact  that 

" He  who  runs  away 


May  live  to  fight  another  day." 

From  that  time  to  the  commencement  of  the  season 
for  county  fairs,  five  or  six  weeks  later,  I  kept  in  a 
condition  of  sobriety.  County  fairs,  I  wish  to  say, 
and  especially  the  Rush  county  fairs,  did  more  toward 
bringing  on  the  disastrous  career  which  has  been 
mine  —  a  career  which  has  befouled  the  record  of  my 
life  and  marked  almost  every  page  of  its  history  — 
witness  this  biography  —  with  blots  of  shame,  discord 
and  unholy  suffering  than  any  other  cause  of  an  ex- 
ternal character.  I  was  very  young  when  I  first  com- 
menced to  take  stock  to  the  fair  to  exhibit  for  premi- 
ums. I  always  went  on  the  first  day,  and  always 
remained  until  the  fair  came  to  a  close,  staying  on  the 
g  rounds  night  and  day.  There  was  a  vagabond  ele- 
ment in  my  nature  which  harmonized  perfectly  with 
this  sort  of  life.  The  men  with  whom  I  associated 
were,  in  general,  of  that  class  who  like  liquor  alone 
or  in  company,  and  each  had  his  jug  of  favorite 


AUTOBIOGRAPHY  OF  LUTHER  BENSON.         53 

whisky,  which  was  supposed  to  be  a  sure  preventive 
against  cold  and  colds  in  cold  weather,  and  against 
heat  and  fever  in  hot  weather.  If  invited  to  drink 
the  rule  was  to  accept  immediately  and  return  the 
courtesy  as  soon  as  convenient. 

In  those  days  I  was  the  proud  possessor  of  a  yoke 
of  white  oxen,  and  I  made  it  a  point  to  exhibit  them 
at  every  fair  within  my  reach,  for  they  invariably  won 
the  Red  Ribbon,  then  a  mark  of  the  first  prize.  Alas, 
that  it  did  not  mean  to  me  what  it  now  does !  It 
meant  anything  rather  than  total  abstinence;  it  was 
an  unfailing  sign  of  drunkenness;  it  told  of  shameful 
revels,  of  days  of  debauchery  and  nights  of  misery 
when  not  passed  in  beastly  slumber.  That  ribbon  is 
now  a  symbol  of  holy  temperance — it  was  then  a 
souvenir  of  days  of  disorder  and  evil-doing. 

During  the  winter  I  was  engaged  to  teach  a  district 
school,  and  for  three  months  managed  to  keep  toler- 
ably sober  — that  is,  I  did  not  get  drunk  more  than 
three  or  four  times,  and  then  on  Saturday  nights  and 
Sundays.  One  Sunday  —  it  was  the  coldest  day  that 
winter  —  I  went  to  Falmouth  and  visited  a  drinking 
place  kept  by  one  McPhillipps.  While  there  I  drank 
eleven  glasses  of  whisky.  At  nine  o'clock  in  the 
evening,  I  can  indistinctly  remember,  I  mounted  my 
horse  and  started  home,  and  from  that  moment  until 
the  next  day  I  knew  nothing  whatever  that  took 


54  FIFTEEN  YEARS  IN  HELL. 

place.  From  the  way  I  was  bruised  and  battered  I 
judge  that  I  must  have  struck  almost  every  fence  cor- 
ner between  McPhillipps'  place  and  home.  My  legs 
were  in  a  woful  plight,  and  having  turned  black  and 
blue,  they  were  frightful  to  see.  On  arriving  at  the 
gate  which  led  into  the  front  yard  at  home,  I  fell  off 
my  horse  and  tumbled  to  the  ground,  a  wretched  heap 
of  helpless  clay.  I  remained  on  the  ground,  lying  in 
the  snow,  until  I  froze  my  hands,  feet,  and  ears.  It 
was  about  three  o'clock  in  the  morning  when  I  got  to 
the  house.  So  they  told  me,  for  I  have  no  know- 
ledge of  going,  and,  indeed,  I  remembered  nothing 
that  took  place. 

When  I  came  to  consciousness  I  found  myself 
wrapped  up  in  a  blanket,  lying  in  bed,  with  hot 
bricks  at  my  feet.  I  was  in  the  room  occupied  by 
father  and  mother,  and  the  first  object  that  met  my 
wandering  sight  was  the  face  of  my  mother.  The 
look  with  which  she  regarded  me  will  never  fade  from 
my  memory.  There  was  in  it  the  sorrow  and  anguish 
of  death.  She  rose  from  her  bed  at  sight  of  me,  and 
with  streaming  eyes  and  screaming  voice  called  the 
family  up  to  bid  them  good-by ;  she  said  she  was  dy- 
ing—  that  I  had  killed  her.  I  sprang  from  my  bed  in 
such  a  horror  of  terrible  suffering,  mental  and  phyical, 
as  never  swept  over  the  body  and  soul  of  mortal  man. 
I  felt  my  heart  thumping  and  beating  a>»  though  it 


AUTOBIOGRAPHY  OF  LUTHER  BENSON.         55 

would  burst  forth  from  ray  bosom ;  the  hot,  hissing 
blood  rushed  to  my  aching,  fevered  brain,  and  a 
torrent  of  sweat  burst  forth  on  my  icy  forehead.  I 
could  not  have  suffered  more  physical  agony  had  a 
thousand  swords  been  driven  through  my  quivering 
body,  nor  would  my  miserable  soul  have  been  in 
more  insufferable  pain  had  it  been  confined  in  the 
regions  of  the  damned.  It  was  some  time  before 
anything  like  quiet  was  restored,  but  as  soon  as  it 
was,  some  of  the  family  went  to  the  gate  and  found 
my  hat  and  took  charge  of  the  horse  which  I  had 
ridden.  That  morning  I  dragged  myself  to  school 
with  a  sad,  heavy  heart.  As  my  scholars  came  in, 
they  seemed  to  understand  that  something  was  the 
matter  with  me,  and  often  during  the  day  their  won- 
dering looks  were  directed  toward  me  as  if  they 
sought  some  explanation  of  my  appearance.  The 
day  was  a  long  and  weary  one  to  me  —  a  day,  like 
many  another  since  then,  of  most  intense  wretched- 
ness. About  noon  one  of  my  feet  became  so  swollen 
that  it  was  necessary  for  me  to  take  off  my  boot,  and 
by  the  time  I  dismissed  school  it  had  got  so  bad 
that  I  could  not  draw  on  my  boot,  so  that  I  had  to 
walk  home,  a  distance  of  one  mile,  over  the  frozen 
ground  with  nothing  to  protect  my  foot  but  a  woolen 
sock.  On  entering  the  house,  my  mother  burst  into) 
tears  at  sight  of  me.  I  must  have  been  a  pitiable 


56  FIFTEEN  YEARS  IN  HELL. 

object,  and  yet  how  little  did  I  deserve  the  wealth 
of  priceless  sympathy  lavished  upon  nie.  That  night, 
and  many  nights  succeeding  it,  the  only  way  I  could 
get  into  bed  was  to  put  an  old -fashioned  chair  with 
rounds  in  the  back,  beside  the  bed  and  'crawl  up 
round  by  round  until  I  got  on  a  level  with  the  bed, 
and  then  let  go  and  fall  over  into  the  bed. 

It  is  needless  for  me  to  say  that  I  firmly  resolved 
and  honestly  felt  that  I  would  never  again  taste  the 
liquor  which  leads  to  madness,  misery,  and  death. 
For  some  time  I  kept  my  resolution;  and  would  to 
God  that  I  could  here  conclude  by  saying  that  I 
never  again  allowed  a  drop  of  it  to  pass  my  lips. 
But  I  am  writing  an  autobiography,  and  I  have  told 
you  that  I  would  not  shrink  from  telling  the  truth. 
So  it  will  happen  that  other  and  still  more  desperate 
and  disgraceful  episodes  of  drunkenness  will  have  to 
be  recorded. 

In  the  spring  of  1867  I  went  to  Connersville,  and 
began  the  study  of  law  with  the  Hon.  John  S.  Reid. 
Unfortunately,  and  I  fear  designedly,  I  made  my  ac- 
quaintances among,  and  selected  my  companions  from, 
the  most  dissolute,  idle,  and  intemperate  class  of  young 
men  in  the  town.  Connersville  then  had  and  still  has 
among  its  citizens  some  very  wealthy  men,  who  suf- 
fered their  boys  to  grow  up  without  much  care, 
mostly  in  idleness.  As  might  be  expected  the  indiffer 


AUTOBIOGRAPHY  OF  LUTHER  BENSON.          57 

ence  of  the  fathers,  joined  to  the  natural  inclinations 
of  the  sons,  has  proved  the  ruin  of  the  latter.  I  now 
call  to  mind  several  of  those  young  men  who  are 
hopeless  and  complete  wrecks.  Idleness  and  dissipa- 
tion have  done  their  terrible  work  in  every  case 
which  I  call  to  mind. 

I  read  a  little  law,  and  drank  a  great  deal  of 
whisky,  and  as  a  natural  consequence  the  time  then 
passing  was  for  the  most  part  worse  than  lost.  Up  to 
this  period  the  duration  of  my  sprees  was  not  longer 
than  a  day  and  night.  They  now  were  not  confined 
to  one  day,  for  when  I  went  out  on  what  is  called  a 
~e  regular  spree,"  it  was  liable  to  be  two  or  three  days, 
as  it  has  since  been  two  or  three  weeks,  before  I  got 
back.  Got  back!  Where  from?  The  reader  knows 
too  well. 

Out  on  a  spree !  These  are  melancholy  and  heart- 
breaking words.  Out  on  a  spree !  Oh,  how  much 
of  misery  is  implied!  Out  on  a  spree!  Readers, 
every  one,  I  hope  you  will  never  have  it  said  that 
you  are  out  on  a  spree.  To  go  out  on  a  spree  is 
to  throw  away  strength,  without  which  the  battle 
of  life  can  not  be  fought ;  it  is  to  squander  money 
which  you  may  need  badly  for  the  necessaries  of 
life,  which  had  better  be  thrown  into  the  fire  and 
burnt  up  than  spent  in  such  a  way;  it  is  to  quench 
the  light  of  ambition,  to  crush  hope,  entomb  joy,  lay 


58  FIFTEEN  YEARS  IN  HELL  . 

waste  the  powers  of  the  mind,  neglect  duty,  desert 
the  family,  and  commit  in  the  end  suicide.  Arson 
may  have  walked  by  your  side  while  out  on  a  spree, 
red  murder  may  have  grinned,  dagger  in  hand,  upon 
you,  and  death  stalked  within  your  shadow,  ready  in 
£  thousand  ways  to  strike  you  down.  Don't  go  out 
on  sprees.  Think  of  the  pity  of  them,  the  wrong,  the 
disgrace,  the  remorse,  the  misery  Going  on  an  occa- 
sional spree  only  will  not  do.  Some  men  will  keep 
sober  for  weeks,  and  even  months,  but  a  birthday,  or 
a  wedding,  or  a  national  holiday,  or  a  fit  of  the  blues, 
or  a  streak  of  good  luck,  starts  them  off,  and  habit, 
like  a  smouldering  flame,  breaks  out,  and  for  a  time 
all  is  over.  Such  men  scotch,  but  they  do  not  kill 
the  cobra  of  intemperance,  and  soon  or  late  the  other 
result  will  follow,  the  snake  will  kill  them.  The  rep- 
tile is  tenacious  of  life,  and  so  long  as  the  life  remains 
there  is  danger  from  the  deadly  venom  of  its  tooth. 
Those  who  have  never  formed  the  habit  of  drinking 
had  better  die  at  once  than  live  to  form  it.  Those 
who  have  formed  the  habit  should  subdue  it  and  never 
enter  into  a  compromise  with  it.  The  good  effects  of 
months  of  abstinence  may  be  swept  away  in  an  hour 
Open  the  flood-gates  of  indulgence  never  so  little  and 
the  torrent  will  force  its  way  through  and  drown  every 
worthy  resolution.  Its  tide  is  next  to  resistless. 
Days  of  drunkenness  succeed,  months  of  self-denial 


AUTOBIOGRAPHY  OF  LUTHER  BENSON.          59 

/ire  lost,  and  deplorable  results  follow  everywhere. 
Wives  are  driven  to  desperation,  mothers  to  despair, 
children  to  want.  Demoralization,  starvation,  dam- 
nation follow.  Friends  are  separated,  homes  are  des- 
olated, and  souls  are  driven  to  hell  itself,  and  yet 
people  will  talk  lightly,  and  even  jokingly  of  the 
very  thing  which  leads  to  these  terrible  losses  and 
sufferings — out  on  a  spree. 

Debauches  not  only  destroy  all  capacity  for  useful- 
ness while  they  last,  but  they  demand  the  vital 
strength  which  has  wisely  been  gathered  in  the 
system  for  days  of  possible  need,  when  sickness  and 
natural  infirmities  will  lay  hands  on  the  mind  or  body. 
The  debauch  of  to-day  will  borrow  from  to-morrow 
or  from  next  week,  or  month,  or  year,  that  which 
can  not  be  restored.  The  bloated  face,  the  dull, 
glassy  eye,  the  furtive  glance  of  fear  and  shame,  the 
trembling  gait,  all  speak  of  ravages  produced  by 
other  causes  than  those  of  time.  Indeed,  the  flight 

*  O 

of  years  can  produce  no  such  effects,  for  inexorable 
and  wearing  as  fleeting  days  and  months  are,  their 
natural  results  differ  very  widely  from  those  which 
are  caused  by  an  abuse  of  the  powers  of  nature.  Be- 
sides this,  many  men  who  are  shattered  wrecks  are 
still  young  in  years,  and  the  dew  of  youth  but  for 
dissipation  might  yet  have  glistened  on  their  fore- 
heads 


gO  FIFTEEN   YEARS  IN  HELL. 

It  was  at  this  period  that  the  appetite  burst  forth 
in  a  fearful  flame  which  scorched  life  itself,  and  burnt 
every  energy  of  my  being.  It  was  fast  getting  to  be 
a  consuming,  craving,  devouring  passion,  subjecting 
my  very  soul  to  its  dreadful  tyranny.  My  spells 
increased  in  frequency,  and  their  duration  was  more 
and  more  prolonged.  I  would  remain  drunk  from 
eight  to  ten  days,  until  I  got  so  nervous  that  I  could 
not  sleep,  and  night  after  night  I  would  be  counting 
the  hours  and  longing  for  morning,  which,  when  it 
came  with  its  blessed  light,  gradually  revealing  the 
pattern  of  the  paper  on  the  walls,  caused  me  to  hide 
my  face  in  the  bedclothes  and  wish  for  black  and 
never-ending  night  to  come  and  hide  me  from  the 
world  and  my  misery.  From  such  vigils,  feverish 
and  unrefreshed,  it  may  easily  be  supposed  that  I 
sought  the  open  window  in  anguish,  and  bathed  my 
aching,  throbbing  forehead  in  the  cool,  pure  air.  At 
last  my  condition  became  so  deplorable  that  my 
friends  sent  my  father  word  to  come  and  take  me 
home,  which  he  did.  While  at  Connersville,  in  all 
my  dark  and  desolate  trials,  William  Beck  was  my 
friend  and  helper.  He  never  then  forsook  me,  and 
he  never  since  has  forsaken  me,  but  still  remains  my 
faithful  and  sympathizing  friend — a  friend  whose 
valuation  is  beyond  gold,  and  for  whom  I  entertain 
the  deepest  feelings  of  gratitude.  I  returned  home 


AUTOBIOGRAPHY  OF  LUTHER  BENSON.         61 

with  my  father  and  remained  several  months,  keeping 
sober  all  the  while.  During  most  of  the  time  I 
applied  myself  vigorously  to  the  study  of  the  law, 
making  rapid  progress. 

I  believe  I  have  as  yet  not  stated  that,  in  the  inter- 
vals long  or  short  between  my  sprees,  I  abstained 
totally  from  the  use  of  ardent  spirits.  I  never  could 
and  never  did  drink  in  moderation.  One  drink 
would  always  kindle  such  a  fire  in  my  blood  that  it 
was  out  of  my  power  to  prevent  its  spreading  into  a 
conflagration.  I  have  very  many  times  been  accused 
of  "drinking  on  the  sly,"  as  they  say,  but  every  such 
accusation  is  false.  I  have  also  been  accused  of 
using  opium.  I  know  the  pitiable  wretch  that  started 
that  lie  —  for  it  is  a  lie — and  the  poor  dupe  that 
repeated  it.  For  five  years  my  appetite  has  been  so 
fierce  at  times,  that,  I  repeat,  had  I  touched  the  point 
of  the  finest  needle  in  alcohol  and  placed  it  to  my 
tongue,  I  would  have  got  drunk  had  I  known  that 
that  drunk  would  have  plunged  my  soul  into  hell  and 
eternal  torments.  O  appetite,  cold,  cruel,  heartless, 
accursed,  consuming,  devouring  appetite !  No  other 
malady  like  thee  ever  afflicted  man.  Would  that  I 
could  paint  thee,  in  all  thy  accursed  hideousness,  in 
letters  of  unfading  fire,  and  write  them  in  the  vaulted 
firmament  to  flame  forth  to  all  generations'to  come 
their  eternal  warning. 


CHAPTER  VI. 

£aw  Practice  at  Rushville — Bright  prospects — The  blight — Fron> 
bad  to  worse — My  mother's  death — My  solemn  promise  to  her — . 
"Broken,  oh,  God  !  " — Reflection — My  remose — The  memory  of 
my  mother — A  young  man's  duty — Blessed  are  the  pure  in  heart— 
The  grave — Young  man,  murder  not  your  mother — Rum — A 
knife  which  is  never  red  with  blood,  but  which  has  severed  souls 
and  stabbed  thousands  to  death — The  desolation  and  death 
which  are  in  alcohol. 

My  next  move  was  to  Rushville,  where  I  opened 
an  office  and  commenced  practicing  law.  For  a  time 
I  kept  sober,  and  was  so  successful  in  my  profession 
that  from  the  very  beginning  I  more  than  made  my 
expenses.  In  fact  my  prospects  for  a  brilliant  career 
as  a  lawyer  seemed  most  flattering.  The  predictions 
were  many  that  an  uncommon  future  lay  before  me, 
but,  alas,  I  could  stand  prosperity  no  better  than 
adversity.  My  appetite  grew  to  such  a  craving  for 
stimulants  that  it  tortured  me.  It  had  slumbered  for 
weeks,  as  it  has  since,  only  to  make  itself  manifest  in 
the  end  with  the  force  of  a  hurricane.  While  it  had 

» 

appeared  to  sleep  it  was  gathering  strength.     At  the 

(62) 


AUTOBIOGRAPHY  OF  LUTHER  BENSON.         63 

time  it  dragged  me  down  I  was  boarding  with  some 
others  at  the  house  of  an  elderly  widow.  So  com-, 
pletely  was  I  transformed  from  a  man  into  something 
debased  that  I  went  to  her  house  and  fell  through  the 
front  door  on  the  floor  dead  drunk.  The  landlady 
had  me  carried  back  to  my  office,  where  I  lay  like  a 
water-sodden  log,  wholly  unconscious,  until  the  next 
morning.  When  I  awoke  i  had  no  knowledge  of 
anything  that  had  happened.  My  friends  informed 
me  of  my  fall  at  the  house,  and  of  their  bearing  me 
back  to  the  office.  I  upbraided  myself  bitterly,  but 
it  was  days  before  I  had  the  courage  to  show  my  face 
on  the  streets,  so  keen  were  my  shame  and  sense  of 
disgrace.  Time  softens  the  wildest  remorse,  and  in  a 
few  weeks  I  regained  a  state  of  quiet  feeling.  But 
unfortunately  most  of  my  associates  were  among  the 
class  of  young  men  who  are  never  averse  to  taking  a 
drink,  and  it  was  not  long  before  I  found  myself 
again  visiting  the  saloons,  although  I  did  not  give 
up  right  away  to  take  a  drink  with  them.  But 
I  got  to  staying  in  the  saloons  more  than  in  my 
office,  and  began  to  go  down  steadily.  Good  people 
who  felt  sorry  for  me,  and  who  wanted  to  aid  me, 
would  do  nothing  for  me  unless  I  would  do  some- 
thing for  myself,  and  this  I  could  not,  or  did  not  do. 
I  moved  from  office  to  office,  always  descending  in 
respectability,  because  always  violating  my  promises 


64  FIFTEEN  YEARS  IN  HELL. 

not  to  drink.  Occasionally  I  would  make  a  desper- 
ate effort  to  reform,  gathering  about  me  every  ele- 
ment of  strength  which  I  could  possibly  command, 
and  for  a  while  I  would  be  successful,  but  just  as 
hope  would  begin  to  light  up  my  darkened  path  and 
my  friends  begin  to  feel  a  new-born  confidence  in  me, 
an  infernal  and  terrible  desire  would  take  possession 
of  me,  and  in  a  moment  all  that  I  had  gained  would 
be  swept  away  by  my  yielding  to  the  demon  that 
tempted  me.  A  debauch  longer  and  more  utterly 
sickening  and  vile  than  the  last  followed,  after 
which  I  would  settle  down  into  a  condition  of  hope- 
lessness which  would  appal  the  bravest  and  strongest. 
So  deplorable,  indeed,  was  my  feeling  regarding  the 
matter  that  then,  as  since,  I  kept  on  drinking  for  days 
after  the  appetite  had  left  me  or  had  been  satiated,  in 
order  to  deaden  the  horrible  agony  that  I  knew  would 
crush  me  when  my  reason  returned. 

I  now  come  to  an  event  in  my  life  which  affected 
me  at  the  time  beyond  the  power  of  words,  and  which 
I  can  not  without  tears  of  choking  sorrow  even  now 
dwell  upon.  I  refer  to  the  death  of  my  mother, 
which  occurred  during  the  winter  after  my  going  to 
Rushville  in  1867.  She  had  been  sick  a  long  time,  and 
had  suffered  very  intense  pain,  but  for  days  before  her 
death  I  think  she  forgot  her  own  physical  torments  in 
anxiety  and  solicitude  about  me.  I  went  home  a  few 


AUTOBIOGRAPHY  OF  LUTHER  BENSON.         55 

days  before  she  died,  and  remained  with  her  until  the 
last.  She  talked  to  me  much  and  often,  always  beg- 
ging and  pleading  with  me  as  only  a  dying  mother 
can  plead,  to  save  myself  from  the  life  of  a  drunkard. 
I  promised  her  solemnly  and  honestly  that  I  would 
never  again  taste  liquor.  As  I  gazed  upon  her  wasted 
face  and  read  death  in  every  lineament,  and  heard  the 
dread  angel's  approach  in  every  breath  of  pain  she 
drew,  and  saw  above  all  in  her  fast  dimming  eye  that 
the  horrors  of  her  approaching  dissolution  were  almost 
unthought  of  in  her  care  for  me,  I  resolved  deep  down 
in  my  heart  never  to  taste  liquor  again,  and  kneeling 
by  her  dying  form,  I  called  heaven  to  witness  that  no 
more,  oh,  never,  never  more,  would  I  go  in  the  way 
of  the  drunkard,  or  touch,  in  any  form,  the  unpitying 
and  soul-destroying  curse.  I  looked  on  her  face, 
which  was  growing  strangely  calm  and  white.  She 
was  dead,  and  it  came  upon  me  that  she  who  had 
loved  and  suffered  most  for  me,  and  without  a  re- 
proach, was  never  more  to  look  upon  me  again  or 
speak  words  of  comfort  and  aid  to  my  ears,  so  often 
unheeding.  At  that  moment,  looking  through  scald- 
ing tears  at  her  holy  face,  and  afterwards  when  I 
heard  the  grave  clods  falling  with  their  terrible  sound 
upon  her  coffin  lid,  I  swore  that  I  would  keep  my 
promise,  no  matter  what  the  temptation  to  break  it 
5 


06  ^IFTEEN  YEARS  IN  HELL. 

might  be.  She  would  not  be  here  to  see  my  triumph, 
but  I  would  conquer  for  her  memory's  sake,  and  all 
would  be  well.  I  swore  by  earth,  sea,  and  sky,  never, 
Dever  to  break  the  promise  made  to  her  in  the  mo- 
ment of  her  dying.  That  promise  I  broke  within  two 
'months  from  the  day  it  was  solemnized  by  my  moth- 
'er's  death.  I  shudder  still,  remembering  the  agony 
of  that  fall.  Broken,  on  God !  —  the  promise  has  been 
broken,  is  what  first  entered  my  mind.  Never  be- 
fore had  I  suffered  as  I  then  suffered. 

My  wild  revel  was  protracted  for  days  out  of  dread 
of  the  awful  sorrow  and  remorse  that  I  knew  musi 
surely  come  on  my  getting  sober.  My  mother  ap- 
peared to  me  in  my  troubled  dreams,  and  talked  to 
me  as  in  life.  Many  times  in  my  slumber,  and  in 
my  waking  fancies  did  I  see  her  pale,  troubled  face, 
with  her  pitying  eyes  looking  on  me  as  from  that  bed 
of  pain  and  death,  and  at  such  times  I  reached  out  my 
hands  toward  her  in  mute  pleading  for  forgiveness, 
forgetting  or  not  knowing  that  she  was  dead.  But 
the  moment  soon  came  when  the  truth  was  flashed 
through  the  blackness  of  night  upon  me,  and  then 
my  misery  was  more  than  I  could  bear.  For  years 
before  her  death  I  had  lain  in  my  bed  and  listened 
to  her  moaning  in  her  troubled  sleep,  to  the  sighs 
which  escaped  from  her  heart  and  that  of  my  father, 
and  I  promised  the  God  of  my  hoped-for  salvation 


AUTOBIOGRAPHY  OF  LUTHER  BENSON.         67 

that  if  he  would  only  let  me  live  I  would  no  more 
give  them  pain.  Cold,  clammy  sweat  broke  out  over 
my  face,  and  my  heart  beat  so  low,  and  slow,  and 
weak,  that  in  very  terror  I  felt  that  my  eyeballs  were 
bursting  from  my  head.  Again  and  again  I  begged, 
ind  plead,  and  prayed  that  God  would  spare  me  and 
let  me  live  until  I  could  convince  my  father  and 
mother  that  I  never  would  drink  again.  But  my 
prayers  were  not  answered.  My  mother  went  out 
from  me  in  fear,  and  dread,  and  doubt.  My  father 
lives,  but  for  me  he  has  little  or  no  hope.  If  ever  a 
mortal  longed  and  yearned  for  one  thing  more  than 
another  in  this  uncertain  existence,  I  long  for  a  peace- 
ful and  quiet  evening  of  life  for  my  beloved  father. 
I  implore  the  Father  of  all  of  us  to  g-ive  me  grace 
and  strength  enough  to  keep  sober  until  my  remain- 
ing parent  is  fully  persuaded  that  I  am  truly  and 
beyond  question  saved  from  the  curse  which  has 
driven  me  to  an  asylum,  and  well  nigh  sent  him,  a 
broken-hearted  man,  to  his  grave.  O  for  a  strength 
which  will  forever  enable  me  to  resist  the  hell-born 
and  hell-supported  power  of  the  fiend  Alcohol !  Could 
I  do  this  and  have  my  father  know  it  his  dying  hour 
would  be  full  of  sweet  peace,  and  a  joy  so  shining 
that  its  light  would  drive  afar  off  the  shadows  of  his 
death  agony.  In  that  knowledge  death  would  be 
vanquished  and  heaven  would  stoop  to  earth  and 


68  FIFTEEN  YEARS  IN  HELL. 

cover  his  grave  with  glory.  Oh,  God  !  Grant  me 
this  one  boon!  Give  me  this  one  request!  In  every 
step  of  my  life  I  have  disappointed  him.  In  the 
future  let  all  other  hopes,  and  joys,  and  aspirrtions 
dfe,  if  needs  be,  all  but  this — this  one — that  T.  mny 
never  in  any  way  touch  liquor  again.  May  every 
man  and  woman  who  sees  this  allow  their  hearts  to 
go  out  in  an  earnest  prayer  that  I  may  succeed  in 
this  one  thing.  It  is  now  too  late  for  me  to  reach  the 
bright  promises  of  other  years.  It  is  now  too  late 
for  me  to  regain  all  that  has  been  lost,  but  this  I 
would  do,  and  it  will  make  me  feel  at  the  last  that  I 
have  not  lived  altogether  to  be  a  remorse  and  shame 
to  those  who  are  bound  to  me  by  ties  which  can  not 
be  broken.  God  may  answer  your  prayers  if  not 
mine,  so  that  from  the  throne  of  heavenly  grace  may 
come  the  peace  and  rest  for  which  my  weary  soul  has 
sought  so  long  in  vain. 

When  I  drank  after  my  mother's  death,  many  per- 
sons took  occasion,  on  learning  of  it,  to  censure  me 
in  unsparing  terms.  It  was  even  said  that  I  did  not 
love  my  mother  in  life,  that  I  had  no  respect  for  her 
memory  in  death,  and  that  I  was  a  heartless  wretch. 
These  persons  had  no  knowledge  of  the  power  of  my 
appetite.  They  did  not  know  that  the  passion  for 
liquor,  once  developed  or  firmly  established,  is 
stronger  in  its  unholy  energy  than  the  love  of  the 


AUTOBIOGRAPHY  OF  LUTHER  BENSON.         69 

heart  —  of  ray  heart,  at  least  —  for  mother,  father, 
brother,  or  sister.  But  let  me  beg  that  I  may  not 
be  charged  with  indifference  to  my  mother's  memory. 
She  comes  before  me  now;  she  who  was  a  true  wife, 
a  faithful  friend,  a  loving  and  gentle  mother,  and  I 
kneel  to  her  arid  pray  her  blessing  and  pardon  —  I 
would  clasp  her  to  my  heart,  but  alas !  when  I  would 
touch  her,  the  bitter  memory  comes  that  she  is  gone. 
But  I  would  not  repine,  for  I  know  she  is  with  her 
God.  Her  life  was  pure  and  blameless,  and  her  soul, 
on  leaving  its  weary  earthly  tabernacle,  passed  to  its 
inheritance — a  mansion  incorruptible,  and  one  that 
will  not  fade  away.  She  bore  her  cross  without  a 
murmer  of  complaint,  and  she  has  been  crowned 
where  the  spirit  of  the  just  are  made  perfect.  Bless- 
ed are  the  pure  in  heart,  we  read,  and  I  know  that  I 
am  not  misquoting  the  spirit  of  the  holy  book  when 
I  say  for  the  same  reason,  blessed  is  my  mother,  for 
she  was  pure  of  heart,  and  passed  from  tribulation  to 
peace,  from  night  to  day,  from  sorrow  to  joy,  from 
weariness  to  rest  —  rest  in  the  bosom  of  God. 

It  may  be  that  some  young  man  will  read  these 
pages  whose  mother  is  still  among  the  living.  I  do 
not  think  that  such  a  one  will  be  without  love  for 
his  mother  —  a  dear,  compassionate,  doating,  gentle 
mother,  who  loved  him  before  he  knew  the  name  of 
<ove;  who  sang  him  to  sleep  in  the  years  that  were, 


70  FIFTEEN   YEARS  IN  HELL. 

and  awoke  him  with  kisses  on  the  bright  mornings 
long  ago ;  who  bathed  his  head  with  a  soft  hand  when 
it  throbbed  with  pain,  and  smiled  when  the  glow  of 
health  was  on  his  cheek.  She  wept  holy  tears  when 
he  suffered,  and  when  he  was  delighted  her  heart 
beat  with  pleasure.  It  was  she  who  taught  him  that 
august  prayer  which  is  sacred  in  its  simplicity  to 
childhood.  She  is  aged  now  ;  her  wealth  of  brown 
hair  is  white  with  age's  winter,  her  step  is  no  longer 
quick,  her  eye  has  losi  its  lustre,  and  her  hand  is 
shaken  with  the  palsy  of  lost  vigor.  There  are 
wrinkles  in  her  brow  and  holJows  in  the  cheeks 
which  were  once  so  lovely  that  his  father  would  have 
bartered  a  kingdom  for  them.  She  is  sitting  by  the 
side  of  the  tomb  waiting  for  the  mysterious  summons 
which  must  soon  come.  Oh,  young  man,  you  for 
whom  this  mother  has  suffered,  you  for  whom  she 
cherishes  a  love  which  is  priceless  and  deathless,  you 
will  not  hasten  her  into  eternity  by  an  act,  or  word, 
or  look,  will  you  ?  It  would  kill  her  to  know  that 
you  had  fallen  under  sin's  destroying  stroke.  Some- 
times she  goes  to  the  portrait  of  your  boyish  face  and 
looks  at  it;  at  other  times  she  takes  down  some  worn 
and  faded  garment,  that  you  were  wont  to  wear  in 
those  beautiful  days  of  the  past,  and  recalls  how  you 
looked  when  you  wore  it ;  then  she  goes  to  the  room 
where  you  used  to  sleep  and  looks  at  the  cradle  in 


AUTOBIOGRAPHY  OF  LUTHER  BENSON.         71 

<vhich  she  so  often  rocked  you  to  sleep,  and,  after  all 
is  seen,  she  returns  to  her  chair — the  old  easy  chair — 
and  waits  to  hear  tidings  of  you.  What  would  you 
have  her  know? 

What  news  of  yourself  can  you  send  her?  Think 
of  it  well.  Will  you  put  your  wayward  foot  on  her 
tender  and  feeble  heart?  Is  her  breathing  so  easy 
that  you  would  impede  it  with  a  brutal  stab?  Oh,  if 
yjr  know  no  pity  for  yourself,  have  some  for  her. 
vou  will  not  murder  her,  will  you?  Yes,  you  reply, 
and  the  laughter  of  mocking  devils  floats  up  from  the 
qaves  of  hell  —  "Yes!  give  me  more  rum!"  Now, 
hear  the  truth :  The  time  will  come  when  the  grass 
will  seem  to  wither  from  your  feet,  pain  will  stifle 
your  breath,  remorse  will  gnaw  your  heart  and  fill  all 
your  days  and  nights  with  misery  unspeakable;  your 
dreams  will  torture  you  in  sleep,  and  your  waking 
thoughts  will  be  torments;  your  path  will  lie  in  gloom, 
and  your  bed  will  be  a  pillow  of  thorns.  You  will 
cry  in  vain  for  that  departed  mother.  You  will  beg 
heaven  to  give  her  back,  but  the  grave  will  be  silent. 
The  grasses  are  creeping  over  her  tomb,  and  thf 
white  hands  have  crumbled  upon  her  faithful  breast. 
But  no,  you  will  not  kill  her.  You  will  not  call -for 
rum.  I  have  wronged  you,  thank  God!  You  will 
be  a  man.  You  are  a  man.  You  will  lay  this  book 
down,  and  swear  that  you  will  never  touch  the  ac- 


72  FIFTEEN  YEARS  IN  HELL. 

cursed,  ruinous  drink,  and  you  will  keep  your  oath. 
By  sobriety  and  good  habits  you  will  lengthen  your 
mother's  days  in  the  land,  and  smooth  her  troubled 
brow,  and  give  strength  to  her  failing  limbs. 

Rum  is  a  dreadful  knife  whose  edge  is  never  red 
with  blood,  but  which  yet  severs  throats  from  ear  to 
ear.  It  assassinates  the  peace  of  families,  it  cuts  away 
honor  from  the  family  name,  it  lets  out  the  vital  spark 
of  life,  and  is  followed  by  inconsolable  death.  It 
pierces  hearts,  and  enters  the  bosom  of  trust,  goring 
it  with  gashes  which  God  alone  can  heal.  Rum  is 
a  robber  who  is  deaf  to  hungry  children's  cries  and 
famished  wives'  pleadings.  He  is  a  fell  destroyer 
from  whom  peace  and  comfort  and  content  fly.  No 
one  can  afford  to  be  his  subject,  and  it  is  the  duty  of 
every  one  to  rise  in  arms  against  him.  Let  him  be 
cursed  everywhere.  Let  anathemas  be  hurled  against 
him  by  the  young  and  old  of  both  sexes.  Death  is 
an  angel  of  mercy  sometimes  —  this  destroyer  never. 
Death  may  open  the  gates  of  heaven  to  every  victim, 
but  this  destroyer  can  unbar  alone  the  gates  of  hell. 
He  takes  away  concord  and  love  and  joy,  and  in  their 
stead  leaves  the  horror  and  misery  of  pandemomMm ! 


CHAPTER  VII. 

Blank,  black  night  —  Afloat  —  From  place  to  place  —  No  rest  — 
Struggles — Giving  way  —  One  gallon  of  whisky  in  twenty-four 
hours  —  Plowing  corn  —  Husking  corn  —  My  object — All  in 
vain  —  Old  before  my  time  —  A  wild,  oblivious  journey  —  De- 
lirium tremens — The  horrors  of  hell  —  The  pains  of  the  damned 
—  Heavenly  hosts — My  release  —  New  tortures — Insane  wan- 
derings—  In  the  woods  —  At  Mr.  Hinchman's — Frozen  feet — 
Drive  to  town  in  a  buggy  surrounded  by  devils  —  Fears  and  °~-- 
rows  —  No  rest. 

From  this  time  until  I  tried  to  break  the  terrible 
chain  that  bound  me  by  lecturing  on  the  miseries  and 
evils  of  intemperance,  my  life  was  one  long,  hopeless, 
blank,  black  night.  More  than  one  half  of  the  time 
for  five  years  I  was  dead  to  everything  but  my  own 
despairing,  helpless,  pitiable  and  despicab>  condition. 
I  was  afloat  without  provision,  sail,  or  compass,  on  an 
ocean  of  darkness,  and  from  one  period  of  deeper 
gloom  to  another  I  expected  to  go  down  in  the  sight- 
less oblivion  and  so  end  my  accursed  existence.  I 
could  see  no  prospect  of  a  rift  in  the  curtain  of  pitchy 
cloud  which  hung  over  me.  I  was  myself  an  ever- 

(73) 


74  FIFTEEN  YEARS  IN  HELL. 

shifting,  restless,  uneasy  tempest.  My  unrest  and 
nervous  dread  of  some  swift  approaching  doom  too 
awful  to  be  conceived  became  so  intense  and  real  that 
I  fled  from  place  to  place.  Not  unfrequently  I  came 
to  myself  during  these  epochs  of  madness  and  found 
that  I  was  a  hundred  or  more  miles  from  home,  with- 
out friends,  respectable  or  even  sufficient  clothing,  or 
money — a  bloated  and  beastly  wreck.  I  know  not 
how  I  ever  found  my  way  back,  or  why  I  prolonged 
my  life  under  such  circumstances;  but  it  seems  the 
instinct  called  self-preservation  was  yet  stronger  than 
the  ills  which  assailed  me.  Days  were  like  weeks  to 
me,  and  weeks  as  months,  and  months  as  years,  and  in 
all  and  through  all  I  managed  to  crawl  forward  to- 
vard  the  grave  which  is  still  out  yonder  in  the  future, 
finding  no  pleasure  in  myself  and  no  delight  in  any- 
thing beautiful  and  holy.  As  I  lift  the  dread  curtain 
and  glance  tremblingly  along  the  path  which  stretches 
through  the  funereal  shadows  of  the  past,  I  feel  that 
it  was  a  thousand  years  ago  when  I  was  a  child  in  my 
mother's  dear  protecting  arms.  Sin  may  have  mo- 
ments of  pleasure,  but  the  pleasure  is  but  a  hollow 
ambiance  in  advance  of  seeruingly  never-ending 
hours  of  remorse  and  suifering. 

More  than  once  I  made  desperate  efforts  to  escape 
from  my  humiliating  thraldom,  and,  as  I  .was  sober 
during  the  days  of  struggle,  I  sought  and  found 


AUTOBIOGRAPHY  OF  LUTHER  BENSON.         75 

business,  and  thus  managed  to  secure  a  little  money, 
although  most  of  my  clients  were  poor  and  anything 
but  influential.  I  always  did  my  best  for  them, 
however,  and  seldom  lost  a  case.  But  at  the  end  of 
a  few  days  a  strange,  undefinable,  uneasy  feeling 
began  to  crawl  over  me  and  crept  into  my  heart ;  I 
became  more  and  more  restless,  anxious  and  nervous. 
I  was  soon  too  uneasy  to  sit  still  or  lie  down.  Hor- 
rible sufferings,  agonies  untold,  woe  unspeakable, 
deprived  me  of  reason,  and  when  I  had  the  inclina- 
tion I  had  not  the  will  to  guide  myself  aright.  Then 
all  of  a  sudden,  my  fierce  and  unrelenting  appetite 
would  sweep,  vulture  like,  down  upon  me,  and  I 
would  feel  myself  on  the  point  of  giving  way.  After 
this  I  would  rally  for  a  brief  season,  but  only  to  sink 
into  still  deeper  misery  and  desperation.  There  were 
days  without  food,  and  nights  without  sleep,  but — 
God  pity  me!  —  not  without  liquor.  I  lived  on  the 
hellish  liquid  alone,  and  such  a  life  !  The  devils  of 
the  lower  world  could  see  nothing  to  envy  in  it.  It 
was  worse  than  their  own  torture.  The  quantity  of 
Uqtior  which  I  now  required  was  enormous.  I  have 
drank,  on  the  closing  days  of  a  spree,  one  gallon  of 
whisky  within  the  duration  of  twenty-four  hours,  and 
when  I  could  not  get  whisky,  I  would  drink  alcohol, 
vinegar,  camphor,  liniment,  pepper-sauce  —  in  short, 
anything  that  would  have  a  tendency  to  heat  my 


76  2-IFTEEN  YEARS  IN  HELL. 

stomach.  I  would  have  drank  fire  could  I  have  done 
so  knowing  that  it  would  satisfy  the  thirst  that  was 
consuming  me.  I  left  untried  no  means  that  would 
enable  me  to  break  away  from  my  appetite.  For 
two  or  three  summers  after  I  began  practicing  law, 
I  went  into  the  country  and  engaged  myself  to  plow 
corn  at  seventy-five  cents  per  day,  in  order  to  keep 
myself  as  long  as  possible  from  the  dangers  of  the 
town.  In  the  autumn  season,  after  a  debauch  of 
weeks,  I  have  hired  out  and  shucked  or  husked  corn 
in  order  to  get  money  with  which  to  buy  myself  boots 
and  winter  clothing.  I  occasionally  taught  school  in 
the  country,  but  not  for  money,  for  I  have  made 
more  at  my  profession,  when  in  a  condition  to  prac- 
tice it,  in  a  single  day  than  I  got  for  teaching  a  whole 
mouth.  My  object  was  to  free  myself,  to  break  my 
manacles,  to  open  the  door  of  my  prison  cell  and 
walk  forth  in  the  upright  posture  of  a  man.  Sadly 
I  write,  "  in  vain ! "  If  I  fled,  the  demon  outran  me ; 
if  I  broke  a  link,  the  demon  moulded  another;  if  I 
prayed,  he  put  the  curse  into  my  mouth.  As  I  look 
back  over  my  horror-haunted,  broken,  misspent,  and 
false  existence,  I  realize  how  worthless  I  am,  and  I 
see  that  my  life  is  a  failure.  I  am  in  my  thirty- 
second  year,  and  am  prematurely  old,  without  the 
wisdom,  or  gray  hairs,  or  goodness,  or  truth,  or 


AUTOBIOGRAPH\  OF  LUTHER  BENSON.         77 

respect  which   should  accompany  age.     My  heart  is 
frosty  but  not  my  hair. 

I  will  now  endeavor  to  recite  some  of  the  scenes 
through  which  I  passed,  that  the  reader  may  form  for 
himself  an  opinion  regarding  my  sufferings.  I  left 
Rushville  on  one  of  my  periodical  sprees  (I  do  not 
remember  the  exact  time,  but  no  matter  about  that, 
the  fact  is  burning  in  my  memory),  and  after  three 
or  four  weeks  of  blind,  insane,  drunken,  unpremed- 
itated travel — heaven  only  knows  where — I  found 
myself  again  in  Rushville,  but  more  dead  than  alive. 
I  experienced  a  not  unfamiliar  but  most  strange  fore- 
boding that  some  terrible  calamity  was  impending. 
I  was  more  nervous  than  ever  before,  so  much  so  in 
fact  that  I  became  alarmed  seriously ,  and  called  on 
Dr.  Moffitt  for  medical  advice.  Ho  diagnosed  my 
case,  and  informed  me  that  my  condition  was  danger- 
ous, unnatural  and  wild.  He  gave  me  some  medicine 
and  kindly  advised  me  to  go  into  his  house  and  lie  down, 
"'^remained  there  two  days  and  nights,  and  in  spite  of 
his  able  treatment  and  constant  care  I  grew  worse. 
Do  you  know  what  is  meant  by  delirium  tremens, 
reader?  If  not,  I  pray  God  you  may  never  know 
more  than  you  may  learn  from  these  pages.  I  pray 
God  that  you  may  never  experience  in  any  form  any 
of  the  disease's  horrors.  It  was  this,  the  most  terrible 
malady  that  ever  tortured  man,  that  was  laying  its 


78  FIFTEEN  YEARS  IN  HELL. 

ghastly,  livid,  serpentine  hands  upon  me.  All  at 
once,  and  without  further  warning,  my  reason  forsook 
me  altogether,  and  I  started  from  Dr.  Moffitt's  house 
to  go  to  my  boarding  place.  The  sidewalks  were  to 
me  one  mass  of  living,  moving,  howling,  and  ferocious 
animals.  Bears,  lions,  tigers,  wolves,  jaguars,  leop- 
ards, pumas  —  all  wild  beasts  of  all  climes — were 
frothing  at  the  mouth  around  me  and  striving  to  get 
to  me.  Recollect  that  while  all  this  was  hallucina- 
tion, it  was  just  as  real  as  if  it  had  been  an  unde- 
niable and  awful  reality.  Above  and  all  around 
me  I  heard  screams  and  threatening  voices.  At 
every  step  I  fell  over  or  against  some  furious  animal. 
When  I  finally  reached  the  door  leading  to  my  room 
and  just  as  I  was  about  to  enter,  a  human  corpse 
sprang  into  the  doorway.  It  had  motion,  but  I  knew 
that  it  was  a  tenant  of  that  dark  and  windowless 
abode,  the  grave.  It  opened  full  upon  me  its  dull, 
glassy,  lustreless  eyes;  stark,  cold,  and  hideous  it 
stood  before  me.  It  lifted  a  stiffened  arm  and  struck 
me  a  blow  in  the  face  with  its  icy  and  almost  fleshless 
hand  from  which  reptiles  fell  and  writhed  at  my  feet. 
I  turned  to  rush  into  another  room,  but  the  door  was 
bolted.  I  then  thought  for  a  second  that  I  was 
dreaming,  and  I  awoke  -and  laughed  a  wild  laugh, 
which  ended  in  a  shriek,  for  I  knew  that  I  was  awake. 
I  turned  again  toward  my  own  door,  and  the  form 


AUTOBIOGRAPHY  OF  LUTHER*BENSON.          79 

had  vanished.  I  jumped  into  my  room  and  tore  off 
my  clothes,  but  as  I  threw  aside  my  garments,  each 
separate  piece  turned  into  something  miscreated  and 
horrible,  with  fiendish  and  burning  eyes,  that  caused 
my  own  to  start  from  their  sockets.  My  room  was 
filled  with  menacing  voices,  and  just  then  a  mighty 
wind  rushed  past  my  window,  and  out  of  the  wind 
came  cries,  and  lamentations,  and  curses,  which  took 
shapes  unearthly,  and  ranged  about  the  bed  on  which 
I  lay  shuddering.  Die !  die !  die !  they  shrieked.  I 
was  commanded  to  hold  my  breath,  and  they  threat- 
ened horrors  unimaginable  if  I  did  not  obey. 

I  now  believed  that  my  time  had  come  to  render 
up  the  life  which  had  been  so  much  abused.  I  asked 
what  would  become  of  my  soul  when  my  body  gave 
it  up,  and  they  told  me  it  would  descend  to  the  tor- 
tures of  an  everlasting  hell,  and  that  once  there,  my 
present  sufferings  would  be  as  bliss  compared  with 
what  was  in  store  for  me  for  an  endless  age.  As  my 
eyes  wandered  about  the  room  —  I  was  afraid  to  close 
them  —  I  saw  that  innumerable  devils  were  crowding 
into  it.  They  were  henceforth  to  be  my  companions, 
and  if  the  Prince  of  all  of  them  ever  allowed  me  to 
leave  for  a  brief  time  the  regions  of  infernal  woe,  it 
would  be  in  their  company  and  on  missions  such  as 
they  were  now  fulfilling.  I  called  aloud  for  my 
mother,  and  a  voice  more  diabolical  than  any  I  had 


80  FIfTEEN  YEARS  IN  HELL. 

yet  heard,  hissed  into  ray  ears  that  she  was  chained 
in  hell,  but  immediately  a  million  devils  screamed, 
"Liar!  she  is  in  heaven!"  I -refused  then  to  hold 
my  breath,  and  told  them  to  kill  me  and  do  their 
worst.  In  an  instant  the  spirit  of  my  mother,  like 
a  benediction,  rested  beside  me.  As  she  begged  for 
me  I  knew  that  it  was  her  voice,  natural  as  in  her 
life  on  earth.  While  she  was  yet  imploring  for  me 
the  room  became  radiant,  and  I  saw  that  it  was  full 
of  angels.  I  felt  a  strange  joy.  My  sins  were  par- 
doned, and  I  was  told  that  I  should  go  forth  and 
preach  and  save  souls.  I  was  commanded  to  get  out 
of  bed,  put  on  my  clothes,  and  go  down  stairs,  where 
I  would  be  told  what  to  do.  I  obeyed,  and  on  open- 
ing the  door  that  led  to  the  street,  a  man  came  to  me 
and  he  bid  me  follow  him.  The  spirits  whispered  to 
me  that  the  man  was  Christ,  and  his  looks,  acts  and 
steps  even  were  such  as  I  had  conceived  were  his 
when  he  was  once  a  meek  and  lowly  sufferer  on  earth. 
I  followed  him  about  sixty  rods,  when  he  told  me  to 
stop.  I  did  so,  and  just  then  the  heavens  opened 
with  a  great  blaze  of  glory,  and  millions  of  angels 
came  down.  Such  music  as  then  broke  upon  my 
senses  I  never  heard  before,  and  have  never  since 
heard.  The  angels  would  approach  near  me  and  tell 
me  they  were  going  to  take  me  to  heaven  with  them ; 
then  they  would  disappear  for  an  instant  and  devil* 


A  UTOBIO  GRAPHY  OF  L  UTHER  B  EN  SON.    g  1 

gathered  about  me.  I  could  hear  music  and  see  the 
heavenly  hosts  returning.  They  came  and  went  many 
times  thus,  and  after  they  went  away  the  last  time,  I 
was  again  surrounded  by  fiends  who  inflicted  every 
torture  on  me.  Christ  commanded  me  to  stand  in 
that  place,  I  thought,  and  there  I  remained.  It  was 
very  cold,  and  I  frozB  my  feet  and  hands.  I  then 
felt  that  the  devils  were  burning  off  my  feet,  and  I 
shrieked  for  liquor.  I  looked  down  and  saw  a  bottle 
at  my  feet,  but  when  I  reached  down  to  get  it  a  lion 
threw  his  claws  over  it,  and  warned  me  with  a  fierce 
growl  not  to  touch  it.  The  snow  melted,  the  season 
changed,  and  I  was  standing  in  mud  and  mire  up  to 
my  neck.  Ropes  were  tied  around  me,  and  horses 
were  hitched  to  them  to  drag  me  from  the  deeps,  but 
in  trying  to  draw  me  out  the  ropes  would  snap  asun- 
der and  I  was  left  imbedded  in  the  clay.  They  could 
not  move  me,  because  Christ  had  commanded  me  to 
stand  there.  A  little  while  before  the  break  of  day 
the  Savior  appeared  and  told  me  to  go.  I  started  to 
run,  but  when  I  got  alongside  the  old  depot  there 
burst  from  it  the  combined  screams  of  millions  of 
incarnate  devils.  I  can  hear  in  fancy  still  the  ava- 
lanche of  voices  which  rolled  from  those  lost  myri- 
ads. I  ran  into  the  first  house  to  which  I  came.  Its 
owi>er  saw  at  a  glance  what  was  the  nature  of  my  ter- 
6 


82  FIFTEEN  YEARS  IN  HELL. 

rible  trouble,  but  he  had  no  power  to  help  me.  I 
beheld  the  face  of  a  black  fiend  grinning  on  me 
through  a  window.  In  the  center  of  his  forehead 
was  an  enormous  and  fiery  eye,  and  about  his  sinister 
mouth  the  grin  which  I  at  first  saw  became  demoni- 
acal. He  called  the  fiends,  and  I  heard  them  come 
as  a  rushing  tornado,  and  surround  the  house.  Every- 
thing I  attempted  to  do  was  anticipated  by  them.  If 
I  thought  of  moving  my  hand  I  heard  them  say, 
"Look!  he  is  going  to  lift  his  hand."  No 'matter 
what  I  did  or  thought  of  doing,  they  cursed  me. 

When  daylight  at  last  came  —  and  oh,  what  an  age 
of  dying  agony  lay  behind  it  in  the  vast  hollow  dark- 
ness of  the  night ! —  the  horrid  objects  disappeared, 
but  the  voices  remained  and  talked  with  me  all  day. 
You  who  read,  imagine  yourselves  alone  in  a  room, 
or  walking  deserted  streets,  with  voices  articulating 
words  to  you  with  as  clear  distinctness  as  words  were 
ever  spoken  to  you.  Many  of  the  voices  were  those 
of  friends  and  acquaintances  whom  I  knew  to  be  in 
their  graves,  and  yet  they  —  their  voices — were  con- 
versing with,  or  talking  to  me,  during  the  whole  of 
that  long,  long,  terrible  day.  I  was  tortured  with 
fears  and  a  dread  of  something  infinitely  horrible. 
t  went  to  my  office — the  voices  were  there!  I  step- 
ped to  the  window,  and  on  the  street  were  men 
congregating  in  front  of  the  building.  I  could  hear 


AUTOBIOGRAPHY  OF  LUTHER  BENSON.         33 

their  voices,  and  they  were  all  talking  of  hanging 
me.  I  had  committed  an  appalling  crime,  they  said. 
I  knew  not  where  to  go  or  whither  to  fly.  Now  and 
then  I  could  hear  strains  of  music.  The  dreaded 
night  came  on,  and  with  it  the  fiends  returned.  In 
the  excitement  of  breaking  from  my  office,  I  forgofc 
to  put  on  my  overcoat.  The  moment  I  got  on  the 
street  the  freezing  wind  drove  me  back,  but  hundreds 
of  voices  gathered  around  me  and  threatened  me 
with  death  if  I  entered  the  door  again.  I  went 
away  followed  by  them,  and  wandered  in  a  thin  coat 
up  and  down  the  streets,  and  through  the  woods  all 
night.  The  wonder  was  that  I  did  not  freeze  to 
death.  I  could  hear  crowds  of  excited  people  at  the 
court  house  discussing  me,  I  thought.  When  I 
started  to  go  there,  every  door  and  window  of  the 
building  flew  open  and  fiery  devils  darted  out  and 
cursed  me  away.  All  the  time  I  was  dying  for 
whisky,  but  the  saloon  keepers  would  not  give  me  a 
drop.  They  saw  and  understood  what  was  the  mat- 
ter with  me,  and  refused  to  finish  the  work  begun  in 
their  dens.  I  started  at  last  in  the  direction  of  home. 
Just  outside  of  the  town  a  man  by  my  side  showed 
me  a  bottle  of  whisky.  I  was  dying  for  it,  and 
begged  him  for  at  least  one  swallow.  He  opened  the 
bottle  and  held  it  to  my  lips,  and  I  saw  that  the  bot- 
tle was  full  of  blood.  Again  and  again  did  he 


84  FIFTEEN  YEARS  IN  HELL. 

deceive  me.  Exhausted  at  last,  I  sank  down  in  the 
snow  and  begged  for  death  to  come  and  end  my  life, 
but  instead,  a  company  of  citizens  of  Rushville, 
whom  I  knew,  gathered  around  me  and  a  glass  of 
whisky  was  handed  to  me.  I  saw  that  everyone 
present  held  a  similar  glass  in  his  hand,  which,  at  a 
/given  word,  was  raised  to  the  mouth.  I  hastened  to 
drink,  but  while  they  drained  their  glasses,  I  could 
not  get  a  drop  from  mine.  I  looked  more  closely  at 
the  glass  and  discovered  that  there  were  two  thick- 
nesses to  it,  and  that  the  liquor  was  contained 
between  them.  I  studied  how  I  could  break  the 
glass  and  not  spill  the  whisky,  and  begged  and  plead 
with  the  men  to  have  mercy  on  me.  I  got  out  into 
the  woods  four  or  five  miles  from  Rushville,  and 
wandered  about  in  the  snow,  but  all  around  and 
above  me  were  the  universal  and  eternal  voices 
threatening  me.  A  thousand  visions  came  and  went; 
a  thousand  tortures  consumed  me ;  a  thousand  hopes 
sustained  me. 

I  quit  the  woods  pursued  by  winged  and  cloven- 
footed  fiends,  and  ran  to  the  house  of  Andy  Hinch- 
rmn.  He  received  and  gave  me  shelter  until  morn- 
ing, when  he  carried  me  back  home  in  his  buggy. 
I  had  no  more  than  got  into  his  house  when  it  was 
surrounded  by  my  tormentors.  They  raised  the  win- 
dows and  commenced  throwing  lassos  at  me,  in  or- 


AUTOBIOGRAPHY  OF  LUTHER  BENSON,         35 

der,  as  they  said,  to  catch  me  and  drag  me  out  that 
they  might  kill  me.  I  sat  up  in  my  chair  until  day- 
light, fighting  them  off  with  both  hands.  All  these 
terrible  torments  were,  I  repeat,  realities,  intensified 
over  the  ordinary  realities  of  life  a  hundred  fold.  I 
had  wandered  to  and  fro,  as  I  have  described,  butf 
the  people,  the  angels  and  the  devils  were  alike  the  ' 
phantasmagoria  of  my  diseased  mind.  For  one  week 
after  the  night  last  mentioned,  I  had  no  use  of  either 
arm.  I  had  so  frozen  my  feet  that  I  could  not  put 
on  my  boots.  Mr.  Hrnchman  kindly  loaned  me  a 
pair  that  I  succeeded,  although  with  great  pain,  in 
drawing  on,  for  they  were  three  sizes  larger  than  I 
was  in  the  habit  of  wearing.  The  devils  were  still 
with  me,  but  I  had  moments  of  reason  when  I  could 
banish  them  from  my  mind.  On  our  way  to  town  they 
rode  on  top  of  the  buggy  and  clung  to  the  spokes  of  the 
wheels,  and  whirled  over  and  over  with  dizzy  revolu- 
tions. How  they  fought,  and  cursed,  and  shrieked! 
When  I  got  to  my  room  it  was  the  same,  and  for 
days  I  was  surrounded  the  greater  part  of  the  time 
with  demons  as  numberless  as  those  seen  in  the  fancy 
of  the  mighty  poet  of  a  Lost  Paradise  marshaled 
under  the  infernal  ensign  of  Lucifer  on  the  fiery  and 
blazing  plains  of  hell!  For  more  than  one  month 
after  the  madness  left  me  I  was  afraid  to  sleep  in  a 
room  alone,  and  the  least  sound  would  fill  me  with 


86  FIFTEEN   YEARS  IN  HELL.. 

fear.  I  ran  when  none  pursued,  and  hid  when  no 
one  was  in  search  of  me.  My  sleep  was  fitful  and 
full  of  terrible  dreams,  and  my  days  were  days  of 
unrest  and  anguish  unspeakable. 


CH-APTER  VIII. 

Wretchedness  and  degradation — Clothes,  credit,  and  reputation  all 
lost — The  prodigal's  return  to  his  father's  house  —  Familiar 
scenes— The  beauty  of  nature — My  lack  of  feeling — A  wild 
horse — I  ride  him  to  Raleigh  and  get  drunk — A  mixture  of  vile 
poison — My  ride  and  fall — The  broken  stirrups — My  father's 
search — I  g\jt  home  once  more — Depart  the  same  day  on  the 
wild  horse — A  week  at  Lewisville — Sick — Yearnings  for  sym- 
pathy. 

My  condition  now  grew  worse  from  day  to  day.  I 
descended  step  by  step  to  the  lowest  depths  of  wretch- 
edness and  degradation.  Often  my  only  sleeping- 
place  was  the  pavement,  or  a  stairway,  or  a  hall  lead- 
ing to  some  office.  I  lost  my  clothes,  pawning  most 
of  them  to  the  rum-sellers,  until  I  was  unfit  to  be 
seen,  so  few  and  dirty  and  ragged  were  the  garments 
which  I  could  still  call  my  own.  In  ten  years  I  have 
lost,  given  away,  and  pawned  over  fifty  suits  of  clothes. 
Within  the  three  years  just  past  I  have  had  six  over- 
coats that  went  the  way  of  my  reputation  and  peace 
of  mind.  , 

(87) 


88  FIFTEEN  YEARS  IN  HELL  . 

I  left  Rushville  at  the  time  of  which  I  am  writing, 
but  not  until  it  was  out  of  my  power  to  either  buy  or 
beg  a  drop  of  liquor — not  until  my  reputation  was 
destroyed  and  everything  else  that  a  true  man  would 
prize  —  and  then,  like  the  prodigal  who  had  wallowed 
with  swine,  I  returned  to  my  father's  house  —  the 
home  of  my  childhood,  around  which  lay  the  scenes 
which  were  imprinted  on  my  mind  with  ineffaceable 
colors.  But  I  had  destroyed  the  sense  which  should 
have  made  them  comforting  to  me.  I  have  no  doubt 
that  nature  is  beautiful  —  that  there  are  fine  souls  to 
whom  she  is  a  glorious  book,  on  whose  divine  pages 
they  learn  wisdom  and  find  the  highest  and  most  ex- 
alting charms.  But  I,  alas,  am  dead  to  her  subtle 
and  sacred  influences.  However,  I  might  have  been 
benefited  by  my  stay  at  home,  had  it  been  difficult 
for  me  to  find  that  which  my  appetite  still  craved; 
but  it  was  not  so.  Falmouth  and  Raleigh  and  Lew- 
isville  were  still  within  easy  reach,  and  not  only  at 
these,  but  at  many  other  places  could  liquor  be  pro- 
cured, and  I  got  it.  The  curse  was  on  me.  My  con- 
dition became  such  that  it  was  unsafe  to  send  me  from 
home  on  any  business.  I  can  recall  times  when  I 
left  horses  hitched  to  the  plow  or  wagon  and  went  on 
a  spree,  forgetting  all  about  them,  for  weeks.  I  had 
left  home  firm  in  the  resolve  to  not  touch  a  drop  of 
liquor  under  any  circumstances,  and  so  thoroughly 


AUTOBIOGRAPHY  OF  LUTHER  BENSON.         89 

did  I  believe  that  I  would  not,  that  I  would  have 
staked  my  soul  on  a  wager  that  I  would  keep  sober. 
But  the  sight  of  a  saloon,  or  of  some  person  with 
whom  I  had  been  on  a  drunk,  or  even  an  empty  beer 
keg,  would  rouse  my  appetite  to  such  an  extent  that 
I  gave  up  all  thoughts  of  sobriety  and  wanted  to  get 
drunk.  I  always  allowed  myself  to  be  deceived  with 
the  idea  that  I  would  only  get  on  a  moderate  drunk 
this  time,  and  then  quit  forever.  But  the  first  drink 
was  sure  to  be  followed  by  a  hundred  or  a  thousand 
more. 

Once  while  in  a  state  of  beastly  intoxication  at 
Rushville,  my  father  came  for  me.and  took  me  home 
in  a  wagon,  and  for  two  weeks  I  scarcely  stirred  out- 
side of  the  house.  But  the  house  which  should  have 
been  a  paradise  to  rne  was  made  a  prison  by  reason 
of  my  desires  for  the  hell-created  liberty  of  entering 
saloons  and  associating  with  men  as  reckless  as- my- 
self. I  became  morose,  nervous,  and  uneasy.  I  took 
a  horseback  ride  one  morning  and  would  not  admit 
to  myself  that  I.  cared  less"  for  the  ride  than  to  feel 
that  I  could  go  where  I  could  get  liquor.  I  did  not. 
want  to  drink,  but  like  the  moth  which  returns  by 
some  fatal  charm  again  and  again  to  the  flames  which 
eventually  consume  it,  I  could  not  resist  the  tempta- 
tion to  go  where  I  could  lay  my  hands  on  'the  curse. 
There  was  on  the  farm,  among  the  horses,  one  that 


90  FIFTEEN  YEARS  IN  HELL. 

was  unusually  wild,  which  had  hitherto  thrown  every 
person  that  mounted  it.  The  only  way  it  could  be 
managed  at  all  was  with  a  rough  curb-bitted  bridle, 
and  even  then  each  rein  had  to  be  drawn  hard.  If 
there  was  any  one  thing  on  which  I  prided  myself  at 
that  time  it  was  my  proficiency  in  riding  horses.  1 
determined  on  mastering  this  horse,  and  early  one 
morning  I  mounted  his  back.  I  got  along  without  a 
great  amount  of  difficulty  in  keeping  my  seat  until  I 
got  to  Raleigh.  Here  I  dismounted  and  sat  in  the 
corner  groceries  for  an  hour  or  more,  talking  to 
acquaintances.  Finally,  like  the  dog  returning  to  his 
vomit,  I  crossed  the  street  and  went  into  a  saloon, 
Had  the  door  opened  into  the  vermilion  lake  of 
fire  I  would  have  passed  through  it  if  I  had  been  sure 
of  getting  a  drink,  so  sudden  and  uncontrollable  was 
the  appetite  awakened.  Only  a  few  minutes  before  I 
had  with  religious  solemnity  assured  two  young  men 
who  were  keeping  a  dry  goods  store  there  that  I  had 
quit  drinking  forever.  To  test  me,  I  suppose,  one 
of  them  had  said  to  me  that  he  had  some  excellent 
old  whisky,  and  wanted  me  to  try  a  little  of  it,  and 
offered  me  the  jug.  I  carried  it  to  my  mouth,  and 
took  a  ^wallow.  It  wras  a  villainous  compound  of 
whisky,  alcohol  and  drugs  of  various  kinds,  which  he 
sold  in  quart  bottles  under  the  name  of  some  sort  of 
bitters  which  were  warranted  to  cure  every  disease ; 


AUTOBIOGRAPHY  OF  LUTHER  BENSON.         $)\ 

hod  I  will  add  that  I  believe  to  this  day  that  they 
would  do  what  he  said  they  would,  for  I  do  not  think 
any  human  being,  bird,  or  beast,  unless  there  is 
another  Quilp  living,  could  drink  two  bottles  of  it  in 
that  number  of  days  and  not  be  beyond  the  need  cf 
further  attention  than  that  required  to  prepare  him 
for  burial.  It  was  the  sight  of  the  jug  and  the  taste 
of  the  poison  slop  which  it  contained  that  aroused  my 
appetite  and  scattered  my  resolves  to  the  tempest. 
Once  in  the  saloon  I  drank  without  regard  to  conse- 
quences, and  without  caring  whether  the  horse  I  rode 
was  as  jaded  and  tame  as  Don  Quixote's  ill-favored 
but  famous  steed,  or  as  wild  and  unmanageable  as  the 
steed  to  which  the  ill-starred  Ma/eppa  was  lashed. 
I  did  not  stop  to  consider  that  a  clear  head  and  steady 
hand  wrere  necessary  to  guide  that  horse  and  protect 
my  life,  which  would  be  endangered  the  moment  I 
again  mounted  my  hcrse.  Ordinarily  I  would  have 
gone  away  and  left  the  horse  to  care  for  itself,  but  I 
remembered  the  character  of  the  horse,  and  with  a 
drunken  maniac's  perversity  of  feeling  I  would  not 
abandon  it.  I  designed  getting  only  so  drunk,  and 
then  I  would  show  the  folks  what  a  young  man  could 
really  do.  On  leaving  the  saloon  I  returned  to  the 
jug,  which  contained  the  mixture  described,  and 
which  would  have  called  up  apparitions  on  the  blasted 
heath  that  would  have  not  onlv  startled  the  ambi- 


92  FIFTEEN  YEARS  IN  HELL. 

tious  thane,  but   frightened    the  witches  themselvts' 
out  of  their  senses. 

I  took  one  full  drink — what  is  called  in  the  vernac- 
ular of  the  bar  room  a  "  square  "  drink  —  from  the 
jug,  and  that,  uniting  with  the  saloon  slop,  made  me 
a  howling  maniac.  I  have  forgotten  to  mention  that 
I  got  a  quart  of  as  raw  and  mean  whisky  in  the 
saloon  as  was  ever  sold  for  the  sum  which  I  gave  for 
it — fifty  cents.  It  was  about  nine  o'clock  at  night 
when  I  bethought  me  of  the  horse  which  I  had  sworn 
to  ride  home  that  evening.  I  untied  the  beast  with 
some  difficulty,  and  led  him  to  a  mounting  block.  I 
got  on  the  block,  and,  after  putting  my  foot  securely 
in  the  stirrup,  fell  into  the  saddle.  I  was  too  drunk 
to  think  further,  and  so  permitted  the  horse  to  take 
whatever  course  suited  it  best.  It  took  the  road 
toward  home,  but  not  as  quietly  as  a  butterfly  would 
have  started.  He  flew  with  furious  speed,  onward 
through  the  night,  bearing  me  as  if  I  had  only  been 
a  feather.  I  did  not,  for  I  could  not,  attempt  to  con- 
trol him.  It  was  a  race  with  death,  and  the  chances 
were  in  death's  favor  long  before  we  reached  the 
home  stretch.  Possibly  I  might  have  ridden  safely 
home  had  the  road  been  a  straight  one,  but  it  was 
not,  and,  on  making  a  short  turn,  I  was  thrown  from 
the  saddle,  but  my  feet  were  securely  fastened  in  the 
stirrups,  and  so  I  was  dragged  onward  by  the  animal, 


AUTOBIOGRAPHY  OF  LUTHER  BENSON.         &$ 

which  did  not  pause  in  its  mad  career,  but  rather 
sped  forward  more  wildly  than  ever.  I  was  dragged 
thus  over  a  quarter  of  a  mile,  and  would  undoubted- 
ly have  been  killed  had  not  one  and  then  the  other 
stirrup  broken.  I  lay  with  my  feet  in  the  detached 
stirrups  until  near  morning,  wholly  unconscious  and 
dead,  I  presume,  to  all  appearances.  It  was  quite  a 
while  after  I  came  to  my  senses  before  I  could  realize 
what  had  happened,  who,  and  what,  and  where  I  was, 
and  then  my  knowledge  was  too  vague  to  enable  me  to 
determine  anything  definitely.  I  crawled  to  a  house 
which  was  near  by,  fortunately,  and  remained  there 
during  the  morning.  I  was  badly,  but  not  danger- 
ously, injured.  The  skin  was  torn  from  one  side  of 
my  face,  and  three  of  my  fingers  were  disjointed.  I 
was  bruised  all  over,  and  cut  slightly  in  several 
places.  How  I  escaped  death  is  a  miracle,  but 
escape  it  I  did.  The  horse  went  on  home  and  was 
found  early  in  the  morning,  with  the  stirrup  leathers 
dangling  from  the  saddle.  When  the  family  saw  the 
horse  they  at  once  were  of  the  opinion  that  I  had  been 
killed,  and  my  father  took  the  road  to  Raleigh  imme- 
diately, thinking  to  find  my  dead  body  on  the  way. 
Fearing  that  they  would  discover  the  horse  and  be 
frightened  about  me,  I  started  home,  and  had  not 
gone  far  when  I  met  my  father.  As  soon  as  he  saw 
me  walking  in  the  road,  he  burst  into  tears.  I  did 


94  FIFTEEN  YEARS  AV  HELL. 

not  dare  look  as  he  rode  up  to  me,  but  continued 
walking,  and  he  rode  slowly  past  me.  I  could  hear 
his  sobs,  but  was  too  much  overcome  with  shame  to 
spealc.  I  walked  on  toward  home  as  fast  as  I  could, 
and  my  heart-broken  but  happy  father  followed 
tlowly  in  my  rear.  When  I  got  within  sight  of  the 
house  my  sister  saw  me  and  ran  to  meet  me,  crying; 
"Oh,  we  thought  you  were  killed  this  time  —  I  was 
sure  you  were  killed.  It  is  so  dreadful  to  think  of!" 
etc.  She  was  crying  and  laughing  in  a  breath.  My 
feelings  were  such  as  words  can  not  describe.  I 
wanted  the  earth  to  open  and  swallow  me  up.  I  suf- 
fered a  thousand  deaths.  This  is  only  one  of  a  hun- 
dred similar  debauches,  each  more  deplorable  and 
humiliating  in  its  consequences  than  the  last. 

At  times,  as  the  waters  of  the  awful  sea  called  the 
Past  dash  over  me,  I  almost  die  of  strangulation. 
I  pant  and  gasp  for  breath,  and  shudder  and  tremble 
in  my  terror.  My  spree  on  this  occasion  was  not  yec 
over;  my  appetite  was  burning  and  raging,  and  not- 
withstanding my  almost  miraculous  escape  from  a 
drunken  death,  I  watched  my  opportunity,  like  a  man 
bent  on  self-destruction,  and  again' mounted  the  same 
horse  and  started  for  Raleigh.  But  .my  father  had 
preceded  me,  and  given  orders  at  the  saloon  and  else- 
where that  I  should  not  be  allowed  more  liquor.  ] 
was  determined  to  satisfy  my  appetite,  and  with  this. 


AUTOBIOGRAPHY  OF  LUTHER  BENSON.         95 

purpose  subjugating  every  other,  I  went  on  to  Lewis- 
ville,  where  I  remained  for  more  than  a  week,  drink- 
ing day  and  night.  Finally  one  of  my  brothers,  hear- 
ing of  my  whereabouts,  came  after  me  and  took  me 
home.  I  was  so  completely  exhausted  the  moment 
that  the  liquor  began  to  die  out  that  I  had  to  go  to 
bed,  and  there  I  remained  for  some  time.  After  such 
debauches  the  physical  suffering  is  intense  and  great; 
but  it  is  little  in  comparison  with  the  tortures  of  the 
mind.  After  such  a  spree  as  the  one  just  mentioned,  it 
has  generally  been  out  of  my  power  to  sleep  for  a  week 
or  longer  after  getting  sober.  I  have  tossed  for  hours 
and  nights  upon  a  bed  of  remorse,  and  had  hell  with 
all  its  flames  burning  in  my  heart  and  brain.  Often 
have  I  prayed  for  death,  and  as  often,  when  I  thought 
the  final  hour  had  come,  have  I  shrunk  back  from  the 
mysterious  shadow  in  which  flesh  has  no  more  motion. 
Often  have  I  felt  thai;  I  would  lose  my  reason  forever, 
but  after  a  period  of  madness,  nature  would  be  mer- 
ciful and  restore  me  my  lost  senses.  Often  have  I 
pressed  my  hands  tightly  over  my  mouth,  fearing 
that  I  would  scream,  and  as  often  would  a  low  groan 
sound  in  my  blistered  throat,  the  pent  up  echo  of  a 
long  maniacal  wail.  Often  have  I  contemplated  sui- 
cide, but  as  often  has  some  benign  power  held  back 
my  desperate  hand ;  once,  indeed,  I  tried  to  force  the 
gates  of  death  by  an  attempt  to  take  my  own  life,  but, 


96  FIFTEEN  YEARS  IN  HELL. 

heaven  be  forever  praised !  I  did  not  succeed,  for  the 
knife  refused  to  cut  as  deep  as  I  would  have  had  it. 
I  thought  I  would  be  justifiable  in  throwing  off  by 
any  means  such  a  load  of  horror  and  pain  as  I  was 
weighed  down  with.  Who  would  not  escape  from 
misery  if  he  could  ?  I  argued.  If  the  grave,  self- 
sought,  would  hide  every  error,  blot  out  every  pang, 
and  shield  from  every  storm,  why  not  seek  it? 

They  have  in  certain  lands  of  the  tropics  a  game 
which  the  people  are  said  to  watch  with  absorbing 
interest.  It  is  this:  A  scorpion  is  caught.  With 
cruel  eagerness  the  boys  and  girls  of  the  street  assem- 
ble and  place  the  reptile  on  a  board,  surrounded  with 
a  rim  of  tow  saturated  with  some  inflammable  spirit. 
This  ignited,  the  torture  of  the  scorpion  begins. 
Maddened  by  the  heat,  the  detested  thing  approaches 
the  fiery  barrier  and  attempts  to  find  some  passage  of 
escape,  but  vain  the  endeavor ! "  It  retreats  toward 
the  center  of  the  ring,  and  as  the  heat  increases  and 
it  begins  to  writhe  under  it,  the  children  cry  out  with 
pleasure  —  a  cry  in  which,  I  fancy,  there  is  a  cadence 
of  the  sound  which  sends  a  thrill  of  delight  through 
hell  —  the  sound  of  exultation  which  rises  from  the 
tongues  of  bigots  when  the  martyr's  soul  mounts  up- 
ward from  the  flames  in  which  his  body  is  consumed. 
Again  the  scorpion  attempts  to  escape,  and  again  it  is 
turned  back  by  that  impassable  barrier  of  fire.  The 


AUTOBIOGRAPHY  OF  LUTHER  BENSON.         97 

shouts  of  the  children  deepen.  At  last,  finding  that 
there  is  no  way  by  which  to  fly,  the  hated  thing 
retreats  to  the  center  of  its  flaming  prison  and  stings 
itself  to  death.  Then  it  is  that  the  exultation  of  the 
crowd  of  cruel  tormentors  is  most  loudly  expressed. 
But  do  not  infer  from  what  I  have  said  that  I  look 
vvith  favor  on  suicide  under  any  circumstances.  That 
I  do  not  do,  but  I  would  have  you  look  at  society  and 
some  of  its  victims. 

See  what  barriers  of  flame  are  often  thrown  around 
poor,  despairing,  miserable  men  !  Listen  to  that  in- 
difference and  condemnation,  and  this  wail  of  agony ! 
Can  you  wonder  that  the  outcast  abandons  hope  and 
plunges  the  knife  into  his  heart?  He  is  driven  to 
iiadness,  and  feeling  that  all  is  lost,  he  commits  an 
act  which  does  indeed  lose  everything  for  him,  for  it 
bars  the  gates  of  heaven  against  him.  Before  he  had 
nothing  on  earth;  now  he  has  nothing  in  paradise. 
A^as  for  those  who  triumph  over  the  fall  of  a  fellow 
creature.  God  have  mercy  on  those  who  exult  over 
the  wretchedness  of  a  victim  of  alcohol !  Woe  to 
those  who  ridicule  his  efforts  to  escape,  and  who 
mock  him  when  he  fails.  Do  they  not  help  to  shape 
for  him  the  dagger  of  self-destruction  ?  What  ingre- 
dients of  poison  do  they  not  mix  with  the  fatal  drink 
which  deprives  him  of  breath?  With  what  threads 
7 


98  FIFTEEN  YEARS  IN  HELL. 

do  they  strengthen  the  rope  with  which  he  hangs  him- 
self! Where  should  the  most  blame  rest,  where  does 
it  most  rest  in  the  eyes  of  God — with  society  which 
drives  him  forth  a  depraved  and  friendless  creature? 
or  with  himself  no  longer  accountable  for  his  acts? 
D  the  agony  of  feeling  that  on  the  whole  face  of  the 
earth  there  is  not  a  face  that  will  look  upon  you  in 
kindness,  nor  a  heart  that  will  throb  with  compas- 
sion at  sight  of  your  misery !  I  know  what  this 
agony  is,  for  in  my  darkest  hours  I  have  looked  for 
pity  and  strained  my  ears  to  catch  the  tones  of  a 
kindly  voice  in  vain.  But  let  me  hasten  to  say, 
lest  I  be  misunderstood,  that  since  I  commenced  to 
lecture,  I  have  had  the  support  and  active  help  of 
thousands  of  the  very  best  men  and  women  in  the 
land.  I  doubt  that  there  was  ever  a  man  in  calamity 
trying  to  escape  from  terrors  worse  than  those  of 
death  who  had  more  aid  than  has  been  emended  to 
me.  Could  prayers  and  tears  lift  one  oat  of  misfo;'- 
tune  and  wretchedness  I  would  long  ago  have  stood 
above  all  the  tribulations  of  my  Hfe.  I  desire  to 
have  every  man  and  woman  that  hu«  bestowed  kind- 
ness on  me,  if  only  a  word  or  look,  know  that  ,r 
remember  such  kindness,  and  that  I  long  to  prove- 
that  it  was  not  thrown  away.  Every  day  there  rises 
before  me  numberless  faces  I  have  met  from  time  tc 
time,  each  beautiful  with  th<*  love,  sympathy, 


AUTOBIOGRAPHY  OF  LUTHER  BENSON.         99 

pity  which  elevates  the  human  into  the  divine.  There 
are  others,  I  regret  to  say,  that  pass  before  me  with 
dark  looks  and  scowls.  .1  know  them  well,  for  they 
have  sought  to  discourage  and  drag  me  down.  Their 
tongues  have  been. quick  to  condemn  and  free  to  vil- 
ify me.  I  seek  no  revenge  on  them.  I  forgive  aa 
wholly  and  freely  as  I  hope  to  be  forgiven.  May 
God  soften  their  tiger  hearts  and  melt  their  hyena 
soul*. 


CHAPTER  IX. 

The  ever-recurring  spell — Writing  in  the  sand — Hartford  City — In 
the  ditch — Extricated — Fairly  started — A  telegram — My  broth- 
er's death — Sober — A  long  night— Ride  home — Palpitation  of  the 
heart — Bluffton — The  inevitable — Delirium  again — No  friends, 
money,  nor  clothes — One  hundred  miles  from  home — I  take  a 
walk — Clinton  county — Engage  to  teach  a  school — The  lobbies 
of  hell — Arrested — Flight  to  the  country — Open  school — A  fail- 
ure— Return  home— The  beginning  of  a  terrible  experience — 
Two  months  of  uninterrupted  drinking — Goalless,  hatless,  and 
bootless  —  The  "Blue  Goose"  —  The  tremens — Inflammatory 
rheumatism — The  torments  of  the  damned — Walking  on  crutches 
— Drive  to  Rushville — Another  drunk — Pawn  my  clothes — At 
Indianapolis — A  cold  bath — The  consequence — Teaching  school 
— Satisfaction  given — The  kindness  of  Daniel  Baker  and  his 
wife — A  paying  practice  at  law. 

I  was  at  all  times  unhappy,  and  hence  I  was  always 
restless  and  discontented.  I  was  continually  striving 
for  something  that  would  at  least  give  me  content- 
ment, but  before  I  could  establish  myself  in  any 
thing  the  ever-recurring  spell  would  seize  me,  and 
whatever  confidence  I  had  succeeded  in  gaining  was 
swept  away.  I  wrote  in  sand,  and  the  incoming  tide 
(100) 


AUTOBIOGRAPHY  OF  LUT*HER  BENSON.       1Q1 

yith  a  single  dash  annihilated  the  characters.  During 
one  of  my  uneasy  wanderings  I  went  to  Hartford 
City,  Indiana.  Hartford  "  City,"  like  all  other  cities 
In  the  land,  has  a  full  supply  of  saloons.  With  a 
/iew  of  advertising  myself  I  had  my  friends  announce 
m  the  second  day  after  my  arrival  that  I  would 
deliver  a  political  speech.  This  speech  was  listened 
to  by  an  immense  crowd,  and  heartily  praised  by  the 
party  whose  principles  I  advocated.  I  was  puffed  up 
with  the  enthusiasm  of  the  people,  and  repaired  with 
some  of  the  local  leaders  to  a  saloon  to  take  a  drink 
in  honor  of  the  occasion.  The  drink  taken  by  me  as 
usual  wrought  havoc.  I  wanted  more,  as  I  always 
do  when  I  take  one  drink,  and  I  got  more.  I  got 
more  than  enough,  too,  as  I  always  do.  On  the  way 
home  with  a  gentleman  whom  I  knew,  I  fell  into  a 
ditch,  but  was  extricated  with  difficulty,  and  finally 
carried  to  the  house  of  a  friend.  My  clothes  were 
wet  and  covered  with  mud.  After  sleeping  awhile  I 
got  up  and  stole  from  the  house  very  much  as  a  thief 
would  have  sneaked  away.  I  was  fairly  started  on 
another  spree,  and  for  three  weeks  I  drank  heavily 
and  constantly.  Sometime  during  the  third  week  of 
my  debauch  I  received  a  telegram  stating  that  my 
brother  was  dead.  The  suddenness  and  terrible 
nature  of  the  news  caused  me  to  become  sober  at 
"Nee.  It  was  just  at  twilight  when  I  received  the 


102  FIFTEEN  YEARS  IN  HELL. 

telegram,  and  there  was  no  train  until  nine  o'clock 
the  next  morning.  That  night  seemed  like  an  age 
to  me.  I  never  closed  my  eyes  in  sleep,  but  lay  in 
my  bed  weak  and  terror-stricken,  waiting  for  the 
morning.  It  came  at  last,  for  the  longest  night  will 
end  in  day.  I  got  on  the  train  and  sat  down  by  a 
window.  I  was  so  weak  and  nervous  that  I  could 
not  hold  a  cup  in  my  hand.  But  I  wanted  no  more 
liquor.  The  terrible  news  of  the  previous  day  had 
frightened  away  all  desire  for  drink.  I  had  not  rid- 
den far  when  I  was  seized  with  palpitation  of  the 
heart.  The  sudden  cessation  from  all  stimulants  had 
left  my  system  in  a  condition  to  resist  nothing,  and 
when  my  heart  lost  its  regular  action,  the  chances 
were  that  I  could  not  survive.  All  day  I  drew  my 
breath  with  painful  difficulty,  and  thought  that  each 
respiration  would  be  the  last.  I  raised  the  car  win- 
dow and  put  out  my  head  so  that  the  rushing  air 
would  strike  my  face,  and  this  revived  me.  When  I 
got  home  my  brother  was  buried.  I  had  left  him  a 
few  days  before  in  good  health  and  proud  in  his 
strength.  I  returned  to  find  him  hidden  forever  from 
my  sight  by  the  remorseless  grave.  What  I  felt  and 
suffered  no  one  knew,  nor  can  ever  know.  Every 
night  for  weeks  I  could  see  my  brother  in  life,  but 
the  cold  reality  of  death  came  back  to  me  with  the 
light  of  day.  I  was  stunned  and  almost  crazed  by  the 


AUTOBIOGRAPHY  OF  LUTHER  BENSON.       1Q3 

blow,  and  yet  there  were  not  wanting  persons  who, 
incapable  of  a  deep  pang  of  sorrow,  said  that  I  did 
not  care.  Could  they  have  been  made  to  suffer  for 
one  night  the  agony  which  I  endured  for  weeks  they 
would  learn  to  feel  for  the  miseries  of  others,  and  at 
the  same  time  have  a  knowledge  of  what  sufferings 
the  human  heart  is  capable. 

My  next  move  was  to  Bluffton.  Wells  county,  In- 
diana, where  I  arranged  to  go  into  the  practice  of  the 
law.  But  here  at  Bluffton,  as  elsewhere,  were  the 
devil's  recruiting  offices  —  the  saloons  —  and  the  first 
night  after  I  reached  the  town  I  got  drunk.  I  re- 
mained in  Bluffton  until  I  got  over  the  debauch, 
which  embraced  a  siege  of  the  delirium  tremens  more 
horrible  than  that  already  described.  When  I  came 
to  myself,  I  determined  that  I  would  go  home.  I 
was  without  money;  I  had  no  friends  in  Bluffton, 
and  but  few  clothes  to  my  back,  and  it  was  over  one 
hundred  miles  to  my  father's,  but  I  started  on  foot 
and  walked  the  whole  way.  I  stayed  quietly  at  home 
a  few  days,  and  then  went  to  Howard  and  Clinton 
counties  on  business,  which  was  to  make  some  collec- 
tions on  notes  for  other  parties.  While-  in  Clin- 
ton county  I  engaged  to  teach  a  district  school,  and 
in  order  to  begin  at  the  time  specified  by  the  trustees, 
I  returned  home  to  get  ready.  I  started  to  return  to 
Clinton  county  on  Friday,  so  as  to  be  there  to  open 


104  FIFTEEN   YEARS  IN  HELL. 

school  on  the  following  Monday.  I  got  off  the  train 
at  Indianapolis,  and  went  into  one  of  the  numerous 
lobbies  of  hell  near  the  depot.  It  was  a  week  from 
that  evening  before  I  was  sober  enough  to  realize 
where  I  was,  who  I  was,  where  I  had  come  from,  and 
Vfhither  I  had  started.  I  could  hardly  believe  it  pos- 
sible that  I  had  fallen  again,  but  there  was  no  doubt 
of  the  fact,  I  had  been  arrested  and  had  pawned  my 
trunk  to  get  money  to  pay  my  fine.  To  this  day  I 
don't  know  why  I  was  arrested,  but  for  being  drunk, 
I  suppose.  I  fled  from  the  city,  and  walked  thirty 
miles  into  the  country,  where  I  borrowed  enough 
money  of  a  friend  to  redeem  my  trunk.  '  I  then 
started  for  my  school.  Notwithstanding  I  was  one 
week  behind,  the  trustees  were  still  expecting  me, 
and  on  Monday  morning,  one  week  later  than  the 
time  appointed  at  first,  I  opened  school.  But  I  was 
so  worn  out  and  confused  in  my  faculties  that  at  noon 
I  was  forced  to  dismiss  the  school.  I  hurried- from 
the  house  to  a  small  village  in  the  neighborhood  and 
there  I  got  more  liquor.  The  next  morning  I  left 
for  home.  Such  a  condition  of  affairs  was  lamentable 
8nd  damnable,  but  I  was  powerless  to  make  it  better. 
I  have  often  wondered  what  the  people  of  that  neigh- 
borhood thought  when  they  found  that  I  had  taken  a 
cargo  of  whisky  and  disappeared  as  mysteriously  as  I 
came.  If  the  young  idea  shot  forth  at  all  during  that 


AUTOBIOGRAPHY  OF  LUTHER  BENSON.       1Q5 

season  among  the  children  of  that  district  it  was  di- 
rected by  other  hands  than  mine.  I  never  sent  in  a 
bill  for  the  sixty-two  and  a  half  cents  due  me  for  that 
half  day's  work.  If  the  good  people  of  Clinton  will 
consent  to  call  the  matter  even,  I  will  here  and  now 
relinquish  every  possible  claim,  right,  or  title  to  the 
aforesaid  amount.  They  have  probably  long  since 
forgotten  the  school  which  was  not  taught,  and  the 
pedagogue  who  did  not  teach.  I  arrived  at  home  in 
course  of  time,  and  remained  there  a  few  days. 

It  was  not  long  until  my  restless  disposition  drove 
me  forth  in  search  of  some  new  adventure,  and  now 
comes  the  brief  and  imperfect  recital  of  the  most  ter- 
rible experiences  of  my  life.  On  the  first  of  July  I 
began  to  drink,  and  it  was  not  until  the  first  of  Sep- 
tember that  I  quit.  During  this  time  I  went  to 
Cincinnati  twice,  once  to  Kentucky,  and  twice  to 
Lafayette.  I  traveled  nearly  all  the  time,  and  much 
of  the  j;ime  I  was  in  an  unconscious  state.  I  started 
from  home  with  two  suits  of  clothes  which  I  pawned 
for  whisky  after  my  money  was  all  gone.  I  arrived 
at  Knightstown  one  day  without  coat,  vest  or  hat. 
I  was  also  barefooted.  A  friend  supplied  me  with 
these  necessary  articles,  and  as  soon  as  I  put  them  on 
I  went  to  a  saloon  kept  by  Peter  Stoff,  and  there  I 
staid  four  days  without  venturing  out  on  the  street. 
A.S  soon  as  I  was  able,  I  took  up  my  journey  home- 


106  FIFTEEN  YEARS  IN  HELL. 

ward.  When  I  got  to  Raleigh  I  was  so  completely 
worn  out  that  I  dropped  down  in  a  shoe  shop  and 
saloon,  both  of  which  were  in  the  same  compartment 
of  a  building.  That  night  I  took  the  tremens.  The 
next  day  my  father  came  after  me  in  a  spring  wagon, 
and  hauled  me  home.  For  the  most  part,  during  the 
two  months  of  which  I  speak,  I  had  slept  out  doors, 
without  even  a  dog  for  company,  and  I  contracted 
slight  cold  and  fever,  which  terminated  in  an  attack 
of  inflammatory  rheumatism  in  my  left  knee.  The 
rheumatism  came  on  in  an  instant,  and  without  any 
previous  warning.  The  first  intimation  I  had  of  it 
was  a  keen  pain,  such  as  I  imagine  would  follow  a 
knife  if  thrust  through  the  centre  of  the  knee. 
When  the  doctor  reached  the  house  my  knee  had 
swollen  enormously.  I  was  burning  up  with  a  vio- 
lent fever,  and  was  wild  with  deliiium.  He  at  once 
blistered  a  hole  in  each  side  of  my  knee,  and  applied 
sedatives.  My  suffering  was  literally  that* of  the 
damned.  I  lay  upon  my  back  for  days  and  nights 
on  a  small  lounge,  without  sleeping  a  wink,  so  great 
was  my  suffering.  For  forty-eight  hours  ray  eyes 
were  rolled  upward  and  backward  in  my  head  in  a 
set  and  terrible  rigidity.  In  my  delirium,  I  thought 
my  room  was  overrun  by  rats.  I  tried  to  fight  them 
off  as  they  came  toward  me,  but  when  I  thought  they 
were  gone  I  could  detect  them  stealing  under  raj 


AUTOBIOGRAPHY  OF  LUTHER  BENSON.       1Q7 

lounge,  and  presently  they  would  be  gnawing  at  my 
knee,  and  every  time  one  of  them  touched  me,  a 
thrill  of  unearthly  horror  shot  through  me.  They 
tore  off  pieces  of  my  flesh,  and  I  could  see  these 
pieces  fall  from  their  bloody  jaws.  No  pen  could 
describe  my  sickening  and  revolting  sensations  of 
horror  and  agony.  For  sixty  days  did  I  lie  upon 
my  back  on  that  couch,  unable  to  turn  on  either  side, 
or  move  in  any  way,  without  suffering  a  thousand 
deaths.  I  experienced  as  much  pain  as  ever  was  felt 
by  any  mortal  being,  and  it  is  still  a  wonder  to  me 
how  I  survived.  I  was,  on  more  than  one  occasion, 
believed  to  be  dead  by  my  friends,  and  they  wrapped 
me  in  the  winding  sheet.  Even  then  I  was  conscious 
of  what  they  were  doing,  and  yet  I  was  unable  to 
move  a  muscle,  or  speak,  or  groan.  A  horrible  fear 
came  over  me  that  they  would  bury  me  alive.  I 
seemed  to  die  at  the  thought,  but,  had  mountains 
been  heaped  upon  me,  it  would  have  been  as  easy  for 
me  to  show  that  I  was  not  dead.  But  I  would 
gradually  regain  the  power  of  articulation,  and  then 
again  would  hope  rise  in  the  hearts  of  those  who 
were  watching.  At  last,  but  slowly,  I  recovered 
sufficiently  to  be  able  to  leave  my  room.  I  procured 
a  pair  of  crutches,  and  by  their  aid  I  could  go  about 
the  house.  Next  I  went  out  riding  in  a  buggy,  and 
after  a  time  got  so  that  I  conld  walk  without  difficul- 


108  FIFTEEN  YEARS  IN  HELL. 

ty,  though  not  without  my  crutches,  for  I  did  not 
yet  dare  to  bear  weight  on  my  afflicted  knee. 

One  day  I  went  to  Rushville,  and  —  O,  curse  of 
curses! — gave  way  to  my  appetite.  The  moment  the 
whisky  began  to  affect  me,  I  forgot  that  I  had  crutches, 
and  set  my  lame  leg  down  with  my  whole  weight 
upon  it.  The  sudden  and  agonizing  pain  caused  me 
to  give  a  scream,  and  yet  I  repeated  the  step  a  num- 
ber of  times.  But  the  insufferable  pain  caused  me  to 
return  home. 

It  was  now  winter.  The  Legislature  was  in  ses- 
sion at  Indianapolis,  and  I  was  promised  a  position, 
and,  with  this  end  in  view,  packed  my  trunk  and  bid 
good-by  to  the  folks  at  home.  At  Shelbyville,  at 
which  place  I  had  a  little  business  to  attend  to,  I 
took  a  drink.  Just  how  and  why  I  took  it  has  been 
already  told,  for  the  same  cause  always  influenced  me. 
The  same  result  followed,  and  at  Indianapolis  I  kept 
up  the  debauch  until  I  had  traded  a  suit  of  clothes 
worth  sixty  dollars  for  one  worth,  at  a  liberal  esti- 
mate, about  sixty-five  cents.  I  even  pawned  my 
crutches,  which  I  still  used  and  still  needed.  One 
day  I  went  to  a  bath-room,  and  after  remaining  in  the 
bath  for  half  an  hour,  with  the  water  just  as  warm  as 
I  could  bear  it,  I  resolved  to  change  the  programme, 
and,  without  further  reflection,  I  turned  off  the  warm 
and  turned  on  water  as  cold  as  ice  could  make  it.  It 


AUTOBIOGRAPHY  OF  LUTHER  BENSON.       109 

jilmost  caused  my  death.  In  an  instant  every  pore  of 
my  body  was  closed,  and  I  was  as  numb  as  one  would 
be  if  frozen.  Even  my  sight  was  destroyed  for  a  few 
minutes,  but  I  contrived  to  get  out  of  the  bath  and 
put  on  my  rags.  I  found  my  way,  with  some  diffi- 
culty, to  the  Union  Depot,  and  boarded  a  train,  but 
I  did  not  notice  that  it  was  not  the  train  I  wanted  to 
travel  on  until  it  was  too  late  for  me  to  correct  the 
mistake.  I  went  to  Zionsville,  and  lay  there  three 
days  under  the  charge  of  two  physicians.  I  then 
started  again  to  go  home,  expecting  to  die  at  any  mo- 
ment. At  last  I  reached  Falmouth,  and  was  carried 
to  my  father's,  where  I  passed  two  weeks  in  suffering 
only  equaled  by  that  which  I  had  already  borne. 

On  again  recovering  my  health,  I  began  to  look 
about  for  something  to  do,  and  hearing  of  a  vacant 
school  east  of  Falmouth,  and  about  four  miles  from 
my  father's,  I  made  application  and  was  employed  to 
teach  it.  It  is  with  pride  (which,  after  the  record  of 
so  many  failures,  I  trust  will  readily  be  pardoned) 
that  I  chronicle  the  fact  that  from  the  beginning  to 
the  end  of  the  term  I  never  tasted  liquor.  I  look 
back  to  those  months  as  the  happiest  of  my  life.  I 
did  what  is  seldom  done,  for  in  addition  to  keeping 
sober  (which  I  believe  most  teachers  do  without  an 
effort),  I  gave  complete  satisfaction  to  every  parent, 
and  pleased  and  made  friends  with  every  scholar  (a 


HO  FIFTEEN  YEARS  IN  HELL. 

thing,  I  believe,  that  most  teachers  do  not  do), 
bright  and  vivid  in  memory  are  those  days,  made 
more  radiant  by  contrast  with  the  darkness  and  degra- 
dation which  lie  before  and  after  them.  As  I  dwell 
upon  them  a  ray  of  their  calm  light  steals  into  my 
*oul,  and  the  faces  of  my  loved  scholars  come  out  of 
the  intervening  darkness  and  smile  upon  me,  until, 
for  a  brief  moment,  I  forget  my  barred  window,  the 
mad-house,  and  my  desolation,  and  fancy  that  I  am 
again  with  them.  I  boarded  with  Daniel  Baker,  and 
can  never  forget  his  own  and  his  good  wife's  kindness. 
At  the  close  of  my  school  I  was  in  better  health 
and  spirits  than  I  had  ever  before  been.  I  began  to 
feel  that  there  was  still  a  chance  for  me  to  redeem  the 
losses  of  the  past,  and  I  can  not  describe  how  happy 
the  thought  made  me.  I  again  began  the  practice  of 
law,  and  for  six  months  I  devoted  myself  to  my 
duties.  I  had  a  large  and  paying  practice,  and  not 
once  but  often  was  I  engaged  in  cases  where  my  fees 
amounted  to  from  fifty  to  one  hundred  dollars,  and 
once  I  received  two  hundred  and  fifty  dollars.  I  will 
further  say  that  my  clients  felt  that  they  were  paying 
me  little  enough  in  each  case,  considering  the  service 
I  rendered  them.  But  during  the  latter  part  of  the 
time  I  suffered  much  from  low  spirits  and  nervous- 
ness, and  my  desire  for  whisky  almost  drove  me  wild 
at  times.  I  fought  this  appetite  again  and  again  with 


AUTOBIOGRAPHY'  OF  LUTHER  BENSON.       \\\ 

desperate  determination,  and  how  the  contest  would 
have  finally  ended  I  can  not  say  had  I  not  been  taken 
down  sick.  The  physician  who  was  sent  for  prescribed 
some  brandy,  and  on  his  second  visit  he  brought  half 
of  a  pint  of  it,  to  be  taken  with  other  medicine  in 
doses  of  one  tablespoon ful  at  intervals  of  two  hours. 
I  followed  his  directions  with  care,  so  far  as  the  first 
dose  was  concerned,  but  if  the  reader  supposes  that  I 
waited  two  hours  for  another  tablespoonful  of  that 
brandy  he  does  my  appetite  gross  injustice.  Neither 
would  I  have  him  suppose  that  I  confined  the  second 
dose  to  a  tablespoon.  I  waited  until  my  friends  with- 
drew, making  some  excuse  about  wanting  to  be  alone 
in  order  to  get  them  to  go  out  at  once,  and  then  I  got 
out  of  bed  and  swallowed  the  remainder  of  that  brandy 
at  a  gulp.  A  desperate  and  uncontrollable  desire  for 
the  poison  had  possession  of  me,  and  beneath  it  my 
resolutions  were  crushed  and  my  will  helplessly  man- 
acled. I  slipped  out  of  the  room  at  the  first  oppor- 
tunity, and  managed  to  get  a  buggy  in  which  I  drove 
off*  to  Falmouth  where  I  immediately  bought  a  quart 
of  whisky.  This  I  drank  in  an  incredibly  short  space 
of  time,  and  after  that — after  that — well,  you  can  im- 
agine what  took  place  after  that.  Would  to  God  that 
I  could  erase  the  recollection  of  it  from  my  mind! 
Days  and  weeks  of  drunkenness;  days  and  weeks  of 
degradation;  money  spent;  clothes  pawned  and  lost; 


112  FIFTEEN  YEARS  IN  HELL. 

business  neglected;  friends  alienated ;  and  peace  and 
happiness  annihilated  by  the  fell,  merciless,  hell-born 
fiend — Alcohol!  So  much  for  a  half  pint  of  brandy 
prescribed  by  an  able  physician.  The  vilest  and 
most  deadly  poison  could  scarcely  have  been  worse. 
Perhaps  I  was  to  blame — at  least  I  have  blamed  my- 
self— for  not  imploring  the  doctor  in  the  name  of 
everything  holy  not  to  prescribe  any  medicine  con- 
taining a  drop  of  intoxicating  liquor.  But  I  was  sick 
and  weak,  and  my  appetite  rose  in  its  strength  at 
mention  of  the  word  brandy,  and  when  I  would  have 
spoken  it  palsied  my  tongue.  I  could  not  resist. 
The  inevitable  was  upon  me. 

Down,  down,  down  I  went,  lower  and  ever  lower. 
Down,  into  the  darkness  of  desperation! — down, 
into  the  gulf  of  ruin! — down,  where  Shame,  and 
Si«,  and  Misery  cry  to  fallen  souls  —  "Stay!  abide 
with  us! "  I  felt  now  that  all  I  had  gained  was  lost, 
and  that  there  was  nothing  more  for  me  to  hope  for. 
The  destroying  devil  had  swept  away  everything. 
I  was  no  longer  a  man.  Behold  me  cowering  before 
my  race  and  begging  the  pitiful  sum  of  ten  cents  with 
which  to  buy  one  more  drink  —  begging  for  it,  more- 
over, as  something  far  more  precious  than  life.  I 
resorted  then,  as  many  times  since,  to  every  means  in 
order  to  get  that  which  would,  and  yet  would  not, 
satisfy  my  insatiate  thirst.  No  one  is  likely  to  con-' 


A  UTOBIO  GRAPHY  OF  L  UTHER  BENSON.      1 1 3 

tradict  me  when  I  say  that  I  know  of  more  ways  to 
get  whisky,  when  out  of  money  and  friends,  (although 
no  true  friend  would  ever  give  me  whisky,  especially 

• 

to  start  on)  than  any  other  living  man,  and  I  sincere- 
ly doubt  if  there  is  one  among  the  dead  who  could 
give  me  any  information  on  the  subject.  Had  I  as 
persistently  applied  myself  to  my  profession,  and 
resorted  to  half  as  many  tricks  and  ways  to  gain  my 
clients'  cases,  it  would  have  been  out  of  the  range  of 
probability  for  my  opponents  to  ever  defeat  me.  I 
might  have  had  a  practice  which  would  have  required 
the  aid  of  a  score  or  more  partners.  I  understand 
very  well  that  such  statements  as  this  are  not  likely 
to  exalt  me  in  the  reader's  estimation,  but  I  started 
out  to  tell  the  truth,  and  I  shall  not  shrink  from  the 
recital  of  anything  that  will  prejudice  my  readers 
against  the  enemy  that  I  hate.  I  could  sacrifice  my 
life  itself,  if  thereby  I  might  slay  the  monster. 

8 


Clt^VTEii  X- 

The  "  Baxter  Law  "  —  Its  injustice — Appetite  is  not  controlled  by 
legislation  —  Indictments  —  What  they  amount  to  —  "Not  guil- 
ty"—  The  Indianapolis  police  —  The  Rushville  grand  jury  — 
Start  home  afoot  —  Fear  —  The  coming  head-light  —  A  desire  to 
end  my  miserable  existence  —  "  Now  is  the  time  "  —  A  struggle 
in  which  life  wins  —  Flight  across  the  fields —  Bathing  in  dew — 
Hiding  from  the  officers  —  My  condition  —  Prayer  —  My  unim- 
aginable sufferings  —  Advised  to  lecture  —  The  time  I  begnti  to 
lecture. 

It  has  been  but  a  few  years  since  the  Legislature  of 
Indiana  passed  what  is  known  as  the  "  Baxter  Liquor 
Law."  Among  the  provisions  of  that  law  was  one 
which  declared  that  "  any  person  found  drunk  in  a 
public  place  should  be  fined  five  dollars  for  every 
such  offense,  and  be  compelled  to  tell  where  he  got 
his  liquor."  It  was  further  declared  that  if  the  drunk- 
ard failed  to  pay  his  fine,  etc.,  he  should  be  impris- 
oned for  a  certain  number  of  days  or  weeks.  This 
had  no  effect  on  the  drunkard,  unless  it  was  to  make 
his  condition  worse.  Appetite  is  a  thing  which  can 

(114) 


AUTOBIOGRAPHY  OF  LUTHER  BENSON. 

xot  be  controlled  by  a  law.  It  may  be  restrained 
through  fear,  so  long  as  it  is  not  stronger  than  a  man's 
will,  but  where  "it  controls  and  subordinates  every 
other  faculty  it  would  be  useless  to  try  to  eradicate 
or  restrain  it  by  legislation.  When  a  man's  appetite 
is  stronger  than  he  is,  it  will  lead  him,  and  if  it  de- 
mands liquor  it  will  get  it,  no  matter  if  five  hundred 
Baxter  laws  threatened  the  drunkard.  Man,  power- 
less to  resist,  gives  way  to  appetite;  he  gets  drunk; 
he  is.  poor  and  has  no  money  to  pay  his  fine ;  the 
court  tells  him  to  go  to  jail  until  an  outraged  law  is 
vindicated.  In  the  meantime  the  man  has  a  wife  and 
(it  may  be)  children ;  they  suffer  for  bread.  The 
poor  wife  still  clings  to  her  husband  and  works  like 
a  slave  to  get  money  to  pay  his  fine.  She  starves 
herself  and  children  in  order  to  buy  his  freedom. 
You  will  say:  "The  man  had  no  business  to  get 
drunk."  But  that  is  not  the  point.  He  needs  some- 
thing very  different  from  a  Baxter  law  to  save  him 
from  the  power  of  his  appetite.  Besides,  the  law  is 
unjust.  The  rich  man  may  get  just  as  drunk  as  the 
poor  man,  and  may  be  fined  the  same,  but  what  of 
that?  Five  dollars  is  a  trifle  to  him,  so  he  pays  it 
and  goes  on  his  way,  while  his  less  fortunate  brother 
is  kicked  into  a  loathsome  cell.  There  never  has 
been,  never  can,  and  never  will  be  a  law  enacted  that 
will  prevent  men  from  drinking  liquor,  especially 


FIFTEEN  YEARS  IN  HELL. 

those  in  whom  there  is  a  dominant  appetite  for  it. 
The  idea  of  licensing  men  to  sell  liquor  and  punishing 
men  for  drinking  it  is  monstrous.  .To  be  sure,  they 
are  not  punished  for  drinking  it  in  moderation,  but 
no  man  can  be  moderate  who  has  such  an  appetite  as 
I  have.  Why  license  men  to  sell  liquor,  and  then 
punish  others  for  drinking  it?  What  sort  of  sense  or 
justice  is  there  in  it,  anyhow?  There  is  a  double 
punishment  for  the  drunkard,  and  none  for  the  liquor- 
seller.  The  sufferings  consequent  on  drinking  are 
extreme,  and  no  punishment  that  the  law  can  inflict 
will  prevent  the  drunkard  from  indulging  in  strong 
drink  if  his  own  far  greater  and  self-inflicted  punish- 
ment is  of  no  avail. 

When  a  man  has  become  a  drunkard  his  punish- 
ment is  complete.  Think  of  law  makers  enacting 
and  making  it  lawful,  in  consideration  of  a  certain 
amount  of  money  paid  to  the  State,  for  dealers  in 
liquors  to  sell  that  which  carries  darkness,  crime,  and 
desolation  with  it  wherever  it  goes!  The  silver 
pieces  received  by  Judas  for  betraying  his  master 
were  honestly  gotten  gain  compared  with  the  blood 
money  which  the  license  law  drops  into  the  State's 
treasury — license  money.  What  money  can  weigh 
in  the  balance  and  not  be  found  wanting  where 
starved  and  innocent  children,  broken-hearted  moth- 
ers and  sisters,  and  deserted,  weeping  wives  are  in 


A  UTOBIO  GRAPHY  OF  L  UTHER  BENSON.       1 1 7 

the  scale  against  it?  Mothers,  look  on  this  law 
licensing  this  traffic,  and  then  if  you  do  not  like  it 
cease  to  bring  forth  children  with  human  passions 
and  appetites,  and  let  only  angels  be  born. 

After  the  passage  of  this  law  making  drunkenness  an 
offense  to  be  fined,  I  had  all  the  law  practice  I  could 
attend  to  in  keeping  myself  out  of  its  meshes  and  pen- 
alties. It  kept  me  busy  to  avoid  imprisonment — for 
I  was  drunk  nearly  all  the  time.  I  was  indicted 
twenty-two  times.  But  it  is  fair  to  say  that  in  a 
majority  of  cases  these  indictments  were  found  by 
men  in  sympathy  with  me,  and  whose  chief  object  in 
having  me  arrested  was  to  punish  the  men  who  sold 
me  liquor.  Another  mistake!  It  is  next  to  impos- 
sible to  get  a  drunkard  to  tell  where  he  got  his 
liquor.  Half  the  time  he  himself  does  not  know 
vvhere  he  got  it.  I  never  indicted  a  saloon  keeper  in 
my  life.  The  sale  of  liquor  has  been  legalized,  and 
so  long  as  that  is  the  case  I  would  blame  no  man  for 
refusing  to  tell  where  he  got  his  liquor.  A  law  that 
permits  an  appetite  for  whisky  to  be  formed,  and  then 
punishes  its  victim  after  money,  health,  and  reputa- 
tion are  all  gone,  is  a  barbarous  injustice.  Instead 
of  making  a  law  that  liquor  shall  not  be  sold  to 
drunkards,  better  enact  a  law  that  it  shall  be  sold 
mily  to  drunkards.  Then  when  the  present  gener- 
tion  of  drunkards  has  passed  away,  there  will  be  no 


FIFTEEN  YEARS  IN  HELL. 

more.  I  succeeded  in  escaping  from  the  penalty  of 
the  indictments  found  against  me.  I  plead,  in  most 
instances,  my  own  case,  and  once  or  twice,  when  so 
drunk  that  I  could  not  stand  up  without  a  chair  to 
support  me,  I  succeeded  by  resorting  to  some  of  the 
many  tricks  known  to  the  legal  fraternity,  in  wring- 
ing from  the  jury  a  verdict  of  "  not  guilty." 

But  all  this  was  anything  but  amusing.  I  have 
never  made  my  sides  sore  laughing  about  it.  The 
memory  of  it  does  not  wreath  my  face  in  smiles.  It 
is  madness  to  think  of  it.  I  lived  in  a  state  of  per- 
petual dread.  When  in  Indianapolis  the  sight  of  the 
police  filled  me  with  fear.  And  here  a  word  con- 
cerning the  Indianapolis  police.  There  are,  doubt- 
less, in  the  force  some  strictly  honorable,  true,  and 
kiud-hearted  men — and  these  deserve  all  praise. 
But,  if  accounts  speak  true,  there  are  others  who  are 
more  deserving  the  lash  of  correction  than  many 
whom  they  so  brutally  arrest.  Need  they  be  told 
that  they  have  no  right  to  kick,  or  jerk,  or  otherwise 
abuse  an  unresisting  victim  ?  Are  they  aware  of  the 
fact  that  the  fallen  are  still  human,  and  that,  as  guar- 
dians of  the  peace,  they  are  bound  to  yet  be  merciful 
while  discharging  their  duties?  I  have  heard  of 

O         O 

more  than  one  instance  where  men,  and  even  women, 
were  treated  on  and  before  arriving  at  the  station 
house  as  no  decent  man  would  treat  a  dog.  Such 


AUTOBIOGRAPHY  OF  LUTHER  BENSON. 

policemen  are  decidedly  more  interested  in  the  extra 
pay  they  get  on  each  arrest  than  in  serving  the  best 
interests  of  the  community.  Many  a  poor  man  has 
been  arrested  when  slightly  intoxicated,  and  driven 
to  desperation  by  the  brutality  of  the  police,  that, 
under  charitable  and  kind  treatment,  would  have 
been  saved.  And  I  wish  to  ask  a  civilized  and 
Christian  people,  if  it  is  just  the  thing  to  take  a  man 
afflicted  with  the  terrible  disease  of  drunkenness,  and 
thrust  him  into  a  loathsome,  dirty  cell  ?  Would  it 
not  be  not  only  more  human,  but  also  more  in  ac- 
cord with  the  spirit  of  our  intelligent  and  liberal 
age,  to  convey  him  to  a  hospital  ?  I  leave  the  discus- 
sion of  this  subject  to  other  and  abler  hands. 

At  one  time  the  grand  jury  at  Rushville  met  and 
found  a  number  of  indictments  against  me.  I  was 
drunk  at  the  time,  but  by  some  means  learned  that 
an  officer  had  a  writ  to  arrest  me.  I  started  at  once 
to  go  to  my  father's.  I  was  without  means  to  get  a 
conveyance,  and  so  I  started  afoot  out  the  Jefferson- 
ville  railroad.  I  had  then  been  drunk  about  one 
month,  and  was  bordering  on  delirium  tremens. 
A-fter  walking  a  mile  or  more,  my  boot  rubbed  my 
foot  so  that  I  drew,  it  off  and  walked  on  barefooted. 
My  feelings  can  not  be  imagined.  Fear  and  terror 
froze  my  blood.  The  night  came  on  dark  and  dis- 
mal, and  a  flood  of  bitter,  wretched  thoughts  swept 


120  FIFTEEN  YEARS  IN  HELL. 

over  me,  crushing  me  to  the  earth.  Before  me  in  the 
distance  appeared  the  head-light  of  an  engine.  It 
seemed  to  look  at  me  like  a  demon's  eye,  and  beckon 
me  on  to  destruction.  I  heard  voices  which  whispered 
in  my  ears — "now  is  the  time."  A  shudder  crept 
over  me.  Should  I  end  my  miserable  existence  ?  I 
knew  that  a  train  of  cars  was  coming.  I  could  lie 
down  on  the  track,  and  no  one  would  ever  know  but 
I  had  been  accidentally  killed.  Then  I  thought  of 
my  father,  and  brothers,  and  sisters,  and  as  a  glimpse 
of  their  suffering  entered  my  mind,  I  felt  myself 
held  back.  A  great  struggle  went  on  between  life 
and  death.  It  ended  in  favor  of  life,  and  I  fled  from 
the  railroad.  I  soon  lost  my  vav  anc&  wandered 
blindly  over  the  fields  and  through  the  woods  all  that 
night.  I  was  perishing  for  liquor  when  daylight 
came.  In  order  to  assuage  my  burning  appetite  I 
climbed  over  a  fence,  and,  picking  up  a  dirty,  rusty 
wash-pan  which  had  been  thrown  away,  I  drank  a 
quart  of  water  which  I  dipped  from  a  horse-trough. 
My  skin  was  dry  and  parched,  and  my  blood  was  in 
a  blaze.  When  I  came  to  grassy  plots  I  lay  down 
and  bathed  my  face  in  the  cold  dew,  and  also  bared 
my  arms  and  moistened  them  in  the  cool,  damp  grass. 
When  the  sun  came  up  over  the  eastern  tree-tops 
I  found  that  I  was  about  ten  miles  from  Rushville. 
After  stumbling  on  for  some  time  longer  I  found  my 


A  UTOBIO  GRAPHY  OF  L  UTHER  BENSON.       121 

way  to  Henry  Lord's,  a  farmer  with  whom  I  was 
acquainted.  He  gave  me  a  room  in  which  I  lay  hid- 
den from  the  officers  for  two  days  and  nights.  From 
this  place  I  went  to  my  father's,  and  although  the 
officers  came  there  two  or  three  times,  I  escaped 
arrest.  It  is  impossible  to  give  the  reader  the  faint- 
est idea  of  my  condition.  Without  money,  clothes, 
or  friends,  an  outcast,  hunted  like  a  wild  beast,  I  had 
only  one  thing  left  —  my  horrible  appetite,  at  all 
times  fierce  and  now  maddening  in  the  extreme.  My 
hands  trembled,  my  face  was  bloated,  and  my  eyes 
were  bloodshot.  I  had  almost  ceased  to  look  like  a 
human.  Hope  had  flown  from  me,  and  I  was  in  com- 
plete despair.  I  moved  about  over  my  father's  farm 
like  one  walking  in  sleep,  the  veriest  wretch  on  the 
face  of  the  earth.  My  real  condition  not  unfrequently 
pressed  upon  me  until,  in  an  agony  of  desperation,  I 
would  put  my  swollen  hands  over  my  worse  than 
bloated  face  and  groan  aloud,  while  tears  scalding  hot 
streamed  down  over  my  fingers  and  arms.  I  staid  at 
home  a  number  of  days.  At  first  I  had  no  thought 
of  quitting  drink.  I  was  too  crazed  in  mind  to  think 
clearly  on  any  subject.  After  two  or  three  days,  I 
became  very  nervous  for  lack  of  my  accustomed  stim- 
ulants; then  I  got  so  restless  that  I  could  not  sleep, 
and  for  nights  together  I  scarcely  closed  my  aching 
eyes.  Long  as  the  days  seemed,  the  nights  were 


122  FIFTEEN  VEARS  IN  HELL. 

longer  still.  At  the  end  of  two  weeks  I  began  to 
have  a  more  clear  or  less  muddied  conception  of  my 
condition,  and  a  faint  hope  came  to  me  that  I  might 
yet  conquer  the  appetite  which  was  taking  me  through 
utter  ruin  of  body,  to  the  eternal  death  of  body  and 
soul.  The  reader  must  not  think  that  I  thought  I 
could  by  my  own  strength  save  myself.  I  prayed 
often  and  fervently.  However  strange  it  may  sound 
it  is  nevertheless  true,  that,  notwithstanding  the  de- 
graded life  I  have  lived,  I  have  covered  it  with  prayer 
as  with  a  garment,  and  with  as  sincere  prayer,  too,  as 
ever  rose  from  the  lips  of  pain  and  sin.  My  unimagin- 
able sufferings  have  impelled  me  to  seek  earnestly  for 
an  escape  from  the  torments  which  go  out  beyond  the 
grave.  None  can  ever  be  made  to  realize  how  much 
pain  and  agony  I  experienced  during  these  first  weeks 
I  spent  at  home  and  abstained  from  liquor,  nor  can 
any  know  how  much  I  resisted.  At  that  time  I  had 
not  the  least  thought  of  lecturing.  Many  times, 
when  getting  over  a  spree,  I  had,  in  the  presence  of 
people,  given  expression  to  the  agonies  that  were 
consuming  me,  and  at  such  times  I  did  not  fail  to  pay 
my  respects  to  alcohol  in  a  way  (the  only  way)  it  de- 
serves. My  friends  advised  me  to  lecture  on  tem- 
perance, and  I  now  began  to  think  of  their  words. 
Was  it  my  duty  to  go  forth  and  tell  the  world  of  the 
horrors  of  intemperance,  and  warn  all  people  to  rise 


AUTOBIOGRAPHY  OF  LUTHER  BENSON.       123 

against  this  great  enemy  ?  If  so,  I  would  gladly  do  it. 
I  began  to  prepare  a  lecture.  It  would  help  me  to 
pass  away  the  time,  if  nothing  more  came  of  it.  It 
has  been  nearly  four  years  since  I  delivered  that  lec- 
ture. I  will  give  a  history  of  my  first  effort  and  suc- 
ceeding ones,  with  what  was  said  about  me,  in  the 
next  chapter. 


CHAPTER  XI. 

My  first  lecture — A  cold  and  disagreeable  evening — A  fair  audi- 
ence— My  success — Lecture  at  Fairview— The  people  turn  out  en 
masse — At  Rushville — Dread  of  appearing  before  the  audience — 
Hesitation — I  go  on  the  stage  and  am  greeted  with  applause— 
My  fright — I  throw  off  my  father's  old  coat  and  stand  forth— 
Begin  to  speak,  and  soon  warm  to  my  subject — I  make  a  lecture 
tour — Four  hundred  and  seventy  lectures  in  Indiana — Attitude 
of  the  press — The  aid  of  the  good — Opposition  and  falsehood — 
Unkind  criticism — Tattle  mongers — Ten  months  of  sobriety — 
My  fall — Attempt  to  commit  suicide  —  Inflict  an  ugly  but  not 
dangerous  wound  on  myself — Ask  the  sheriff  to  lock  me  in  the 
jail — Renewed  effort — The  campaign  of '74 — "  Local  option." 

I  delivered  my  first  lecture  at  Raleigh,  the  scene 
of  many  of  my  most  disgraceful  debauches  and  most 
lamentable  misfortunes.  The  evening  announced  for1 
my  lecture  was  unpropitious.  -Late  in  the  afternoon 
a  cold,  disagreeable  rain  set  in,  and  lasted  until  after 
dark.  The  roads  were  muddy,  and  in  places  nearly 
impassable.  I  did  not  expect  on  reaching  the  hall,  or 
school  house,  or  church  in- which  I  was  to  speak,  to 
find  much  of  an  audience,  but  I  was  agreeably  dis- 
(124) 


AUTOBIOGRAPHY  OF  LUTHER  BENSON.       125 

appointed;  for  while  the  house  was  by  no  means 
"  packed,"  there  was  still  a  fair  audience.  Raleigh 
had  turned  out  en  masse,  men,  women  and  children. 
I  suppose  they  were  curious  to  hear  what  I  had  to 
say,  and  they  heard  it  if  I  am  not  much  in  error.  I 
was  much  embarrassed  when  I  first  began  to  speak — 
more  so  than  I  have  ever  been  since,  even  when  in 
the  presence  of  thousands.  I  did  the  best  I  could, 
and  the  audience  expressed  very  general  satisfaction. 
I  think  some  of  my  statements  astounded  them  a 
trifle,  but  they  soon  recovered  and  listened  with  pro- 
found and  respectful  attention.  My  next  appoint- 
ment was  at  Fairview.  Here,  as  at  Raleigh,  I  had 
often  been  seen  during  some  of  my  wild  sprees,  and 
here,  as  at  Raleigh,  the  people  came  out  in  force  to 
hear  me.  I  improved  on  my  first  lecture,  I  think, 
^nd  felt  emboldened  to  make  a  more  ambitious  effort. 
I  settled  on  Rushville  as  the  next  most  desirable 
place  to  afflict,  and  made  arrangements  to  deliver  my 
lecture  there.  A  number  of  the  best  young  men  in 
the  town  of  the  class  that  never  used  liquor,  but  who 
had  always  sympathized  with  me,  went  without  my 
consent  or  knowledge  to  the  ministers  of  the  different 
churches,  and  had  them  announce  that  on  the  next  Mon- 
day evening  Luther  Benson,  "the  reformed  drunk- 
ard," would  lecture  in  the  Court  House.  I  was  ner- 
vous from  the  want  of  my  accustomed  stimulants,  and 


12G  FIFTEEN  YEARS  IN  HELL. 

the  added  dread  of  appearing  before  an  audience 
before  whose  members  I  had  so  many  times  covered 
myself  with  shame,  and  in  whose  Court  House — the 
very  place  in  which  I  was  to  speak — I  had  been  sev- 
eral times  indicted  for  violations  of  the  law,  almost 
caused  me  to  break  my  engagement.  While  still 
hesitating  on  what  course  to  take,  whether  to  go 
before  the  audience  or  go  home  and  hang  myself,  -the 
dreaded  Monday  evening  came,  and  with  it  came  my 
friends  to  escort  me  to  the  stage,  which  had  been 
extemporized  for  me.  I  waited  until  the  last  moment 
before  entering  the  room. 

On  making  my  appearance  I  was  greeted  with  ap- 
plause, but  instead  of  reassuring  me,  it  frightened 
me  almost  out  of  my  wits.  However,  it  was  too  late 
to  retreat,  and  so  making  up  my  mind  to  die,  if 
necessary,  on  the  spot,  or  succeed,  I  hastily  threw  off 
my  father's  old  and  threadbare  overcoat  (I  had  none 
of  my  own)  and  stood  forth  in  a  full  dress  coat,  which 
showed  much  ill  treatment,  and  immediately  began 
my  lecture.  As  I  warmed  to  my  work,  and  got 
interested,  I  forgot  my  embarassment  and  talked  with 
ease  and  volubility.  I  did  not  fail,  in  proof  of 
which  I  have  only  to  add  that  on  the  following  day  I 
met  Ben.  L.  Smith  on  the  street,  and  on  the  strength 
of  my  lecture,  he  went  my  security  for  a  respectable 
coat  and  pair  of  boots. 


AUTOBIOGRAPHY  OF  LUTHER  BENSON.       127 

Frcra  Rushville  I  started  on  a  lecture  tour,  taking 
in  Dublin,  Connersville,  Cambridge  City,  Shelby- 
ville,  Knightstown,  Newcastle,  and  other  places. 
By  degrees  I  widened  the  field  of  my  lectures  until 
it  embraced  the  whole  of  Indiana  and  parts  of  many 
other  States.  In  a  little  more  than  three  years  I 
have  spoken  publicly  four  hundred  and  seventy 
times  in  Indiana  alone.  From  the  very  first  I  have 
been  warmly  and  generously  supported  by  the  press. 
There  have  been  exceptions  in  the  case  of  a  few 
papers,  but  they  were  only  the  exceptions.  Since 
my  first  effort  to  reform,  all  good  people  have  aided 
me.  But  from  the  very  first  I  have  had  to  fight  op- 
position and  falsehood.  I  have  been  accused  of  being 
drunk  when  I  was  sober,  and  outrageous  falsehoods 
have  been  told  about  me  when  the  truth  would  have 
been  bad  enough.  After  I  had  got  fairly  started  to 
lecture  I  had  always  one  object  paramount,  and  that 
was  to  save  myself  from  the  drunkard's  terrible  fate 
and  doom.  After  a  short  time  men  who  drank  would 
come  to  me  and  congratulate  me,  saying  that  I  had 
opened  their  eyes,  and  that  from  that  day  forward 
they  would  drink  no  more  liquor.  Mothers,  wives, 
and  sisters,  who  had  sons,  husbands,  and  brothers  that 
indulged  in  the  fatal  habit,  came  to  me  and  encour- 
aged me  by  telling  me  how  much  good  I  had  done 
them.  I  began  to  feel  a  strong  additional  motive  to 


128  FIFTEEN  YEARS  IN  HELL. 

lecture  and  save  others.  And  here  I  wish  to  say 
that  my  efforts  to  save  all  men  whom  I  met  that  were 
in  danger  (and  all  are  in  danger  who  touch  liquor  in 
any  form)  of  the  curse,  have  been  the  cause  of  much 
unkind  criticism.  People  have  said:  "  O,  well,  we 
don't  believe  Benson  is  in  earnest.  He  don't  seem 
to  try  very  hard  to  quit  drinking  himself.  He 
doesn't  keep  the  right  sort  of  company,"  and  so  on. 
This  was  the  language  of  men  who  never  drank.  I 
have  had  drinking  men  by  the  score  come  to  me  with 
tears  in  their  eyes,  xnd  beg  to  know  if  there  was  any 
escape  from  the  curse.  Since  taking  the  lecture  field 
I  have  paid  out  \v  actual  money  over  a  thousand 
dollars  to  aid  men  and  families  in  trouble  caused  by 
the  use  of  liquor.  I  tave  the  first  one  yet  to  turn 
away  when  I  had  anything  to  give.  I  have  more 
than  once  robbed  myself  to  aid  others.  Oftentimes 
my  labor  and  money  ha"e  been  thrown  away,  but  I 
have  the  satisfaction  of  knowing  that  I  did  my  duty. 
In  some  cases,  thank  heaven !  I  have  cause  to  know 
that  my  efforts  were  not  in  ruin. 

For  ten  months  from  the  time  I  quit  drinking  and 
began  to  lecture,  I  averages  one  lecture  a  day.  I 
lived  on  the  work  and  its  excitement,  making  it  take, 
as  far  as  possible,  the  place  of  alcohol.  I  learned  too 
late  that  this  was  the  very  worst  thing  I  could  have 
done.  I  was  all  the  time  expending  the  very  strength 


AUTOBIOGRAPHY  OF  LUTHER  BENSON.       129 

1  so  much  needed  for  the  restoration  of  my  shattered 
system.  For  ten  months,  lacking  two  days,  I  fought 
my  appetite  for  whisky  day  and  night.  I  waged  a 
continued,  never-ceasing,  never-ending  battle,  with 
what  earnestness  and  desire  to  conquer  the  God  to 
whom  I  so  fervently  prayed  all  that  time  alone  knows, 
and  he  alone  knows  the  agony  of  my  conflicts.  I 
dreamed  that  I  was  wildly  drunk  night  after  night, 
and  I  would  rise  from  my  bed  in  the  morning  more 
weary  than  when,  tired  and  worn  out  from  overwork, 
I  sought  rest.  The  horror  of  such  dreams  can  be 
known  only  to  those  who  have  experienced  them. 
The  shock  to  my  nervous  system  from  a  sudden  and 
complete  cessation  of  the  use  of  all  stimulating  drinks 
was  of  itself  a  fearful  thing  to  encounter.  I  was  often 
so  nervous  that,  for  nights  at  a  time,  I  got  little  or  no 
sleep.  The  least  noise  would  cause  me  to  tremble 
with  fear.  I  suffered  all  the  while  more  than  any 
can  ever  know,  save  those  who  have  gone  through 
the  same  hell.  The  manners  and  actions  often  in- 
duced by  my  sufferings  and  an  abiding  sense  of  my 
afflictions  not  infrequently  militated  against  me.  It 
has  often  been  said :  "  He  acts  very  strangely  —  must 
have  been  drinking."  Again :  "  I  believe  he  uses 
opium."  These  assertions  may  h-\ve  been  honestly 
made,  but  they  were  none  the  less  utterly  false.  If 
9 


130  FIFTEEN  YEARS  IN  HELL. 

people  could  only  know  just  how  much  the  drunkard 
suffers;  how  sad,  lonesome,  gloomy  and  wretched  he 
feels  while  trying  to  resist  the  accursed  appetite  which 
is  destr6ying  him,  they  would  never  taunt  him  with 
doubts,  nor  go  to  him,  as  I  have  had  men,  and  even 
women,  come  to  me  (I  say  "  men  and  women,"  but 
they  were  neither  men  nor  women,  but  libels  on  men 
and  women),  and  say  that  this  or  that  person  had  said 
that  that  or  this  person  had  heard  some  other  person 
tell  another  person  that  he,  she,  or  it  believed  that  I, 
Luther  Benson,  had  been  drinking  on  such  and  such 
an  occasion ;  or  that  some  one  told  Mr.  B.,  who 
told  Miss  X.  T.  that  J.  B.  had  said  to  Madam  Z. 
that  such  and  such  a  one  had  actually  told  T.  Y.  that 
O.  M.  U.  had  seen  three  men  who  had  heard  of  four 
other  men  who  said  they  could  find  two  women  who 
had  overheard  a  man  say  that  he  had  seen  a  man  who 
had  seen  me  with  two  men  that  had  a  bottle  of  some- 
thing which  he  felt  pretty  sure  was  Robinson  county 
whisky.  Therefore  B.  was  drunk  ! 

These  things  had  the  effect  on  me  that  this  ac- 
count will  probably  have  on  the  reader  —  they  an- 
noyed me  exceedingly  at  times.  At  times  the  false- 
hoods were  more  malicious  still,  causing  me  many 
sleepless  hours.  At  the  end  of  ten  months  of  com- 
plete sobriety,  during  which  I  never  tasted  any  stimu- 
lant—  ten  months  of  constant  struggle  and  determined 


AUTOBIOGRAPHY  OF  LUTHER  BENSON". 

effort  —  I  fell.  Alas,  that  I  am  compelled  to  write  the 
sad  words !  I  had  broken  down  my  strength ;  my  men- 
tal and  physical  energies  gave  way,  and  my  appetite 
had  wrapped  itself  as  a  flaming  fire  about  me,  consum- 
ing me  in  its  heat.  I  commenced  drinking  at  Char- 
lottsville,  Henry  county,  and  went  from  there  to 
Knightstown  on  a  Saturday  evening-.  On  the  follow- 
ing Monday  I  went  to  Indianapolis  drunk,  and  there 
got  "dead  drunk."  My  friends  in  Rushville,  hearing 
of  my  misfortune,  came  after  me  and  took  me  with 
them  to  that  place,  where  I  remained  utterly  oblivi- 
ous until  the  next  Sunday,  when,  by  some  means  —  I 
have  no  knowledge  how — I  got  on  an  early  train 
that  was  passing  through  Rushville,  and  went  as  far 

as  Columbus,  where  I  got  off,  and  soon  succeeded  in 

• 

getting  a  quart  of  liquor.  Between  the  hour  of  my 
arrival  at  Columbus  and  night  I  drank  three  bottles 
of  whisky. 

That  night  I  returned  to  Rushville,  and  while  mad 
with  liquor,  made  an  attempt  on  my  life  by  cutting 
my  throat.  Well  for  me  that  my  kni'fe  was  dull  and 
did  not  penetrate  to  the  jugular  artery.  The  wound 
self-inflicted  was  an  ugly  but  not  dangerous  one.  I 
kept  on  drinking  for  a  week  or  more,  until  I  found 
that  it  was  utterly  out  of  my  power  to  resist  drink- 
ing so  long  as  I  remained  in  a  place  where  I  could 
see,  or  buy,  or  beg  whisky.  I  finally  went  to  the 


132  FIFTEEN  YEARS  IN  HELL. 

sheriff  and  asked  him  to  lock  me  up  in  jail,  which  I 
finally  persuaded  him  to  do.  Once  in  jail  I  tried  in 
vain  to  get  more  liquor.  I  remained  there  until  the 
fierce  fires  of  my  appetite  smouldered  once  more,  and 
then  I  was  released.  I  lay  in  bed  sick  several  days 
at  this  time,  sick  in  mind,  soul,  and  body.  I  felt 
that  for  me  there  was  nothing  left.  I  had  descended 
to  the  lowest  depths.  I  was  forever  ruined  and 
undone.  Many  who  had  said  that  I  would  not  or 
could  not  stop  drinking  seemed  to  be  delighted  over 
my  terrible  misfortune.  The  smile  with  which  the/ 
would  say,  "  I  told  you  so ! "  was  devilish  and  fiendish. 
But  many  friends  gathered  about  me  and  cheered  me 
with  hope  that  by  renewed  effort  I  might  rise  again . 
Well  and  truly  did  a  great  English  poet,  Campbell, 
I  believe,  say  : — 

"Hope  springs  eternal  in  the  human  heart." 

I  determined  once  more  that  I  would  not  give  up. 
I  would  fight  my  tireless  enemy  while  a  breath  of  life 
or  an  atom  of  reason  remained  in  my  being. 

It  was  now  July,  1874.  An  exciting  political  cam- 
paign was  coming  off,  the  main  issue  was  "  local 
option."  I  took  the  side  and  became  an  advocate  of 
local  option,  and  until  the  election  in  October,  aver- 
aged one  speech  per  day,  frequently  traveling  all 
night  in  order  to  meet  my  engagements.  That  cam- 


AUTOBIOGRAPHY  OF  LUTHER  BENSON.       133 

paign  broke  me  down  completely,  and  on  the  first  of 
November  I  again  yielded,  after  a  prolonged  and  des- 
perate struggle,  to  the  powers  of  my  sleepless  and 
tireless  adversary.  So  terrible  were  the  consequences 
of  this  fall  that  in  the  hope  of  preventing  others  from 
ever  indulging  in  the  ruinous  habit  which  led  to  it, 
I  wrote  out  and  published  a  full  account  of  it  under 
the  title  of  " Luther  Benson's  Struggle  for  Life." 
Inasmuch  as  this  book  will  be  incomplete  without  it, 
I  will  embody  that  brochure  in  the  next  chapter,  so 
that  those  who  have  never  read  it  may  now  do  so,  if 
they  desire. 


CHAPTER  XII. 

Struggle  for  life — Aery  of  warning — "Why  don't  you  quit?" — 
Solitude,  separation,  banishment — No  quarter  asked — The  rum- 
seller — A  risk  no  man  should  incur — The  woman's  temperance 
convention  at  Indianapolis — At  Richmond — The  bloated  drug- 
gist— "  Death  and  damnation  " — At  the  Gait  House — The  three 
distinct  properties  of  alcohol — Ten  days  in  Cincinnati — The 
delirium  tremens — My  horrible  sufferings — The  stick  that  turned 
to  a  serpent — A  world  of  devils — Flying  in  dread — I  go  to  Con- 
nersville,  Indiana — My  condition  grows  worse — Hell,  horrors, 
and  torments — The  horrid  sights  of  a  drunkard's  madness. 

Depraved  and  wretched  is  he  who  has  practiced 
vice  so  long  that  he  curses  it  while  he  yet  clings  to 
it;  who  pursues  it  because  he  feels  a  terrible  power 
driving  him  on  toward  it,  but,  reaching  it,  knows 
that  it  will  gnaw  his  heart,  and  make  him  roll  him- 
self in  the  dust.  Thus  it  has  been,  and  thus  it  is, 
with  me.  The  deep,  surging  waters  have  gone  over 
me.  But  out  of  their  awful,  black  depths,  could  I  be 
heard,  I  would  cry  out  to  all  who  have  just  set  a  foot 
in  the  perilous  flood.  For  I  am  not  one  of  those 
who,  if  they  themselves  must 'die  the  death  most  ter* 
(134) 


AUTOBIOGRAPHY  OF  LUTHER  BENSON.       135 

rible  and  appalling  of  all  others,  would  drag  or  even 
persuade  one  other  soul  to  accompany  them.  But  as 
the  oblivious  waves  are  surging  about  me,  and  as  I 
try  to  brave  and  buffet  them,  I  would  cry  to  others 
not  to  come  to  me.  When  but  just  gasping  and 
throwing  up  my  hand  for  the  last  time,  it  would  not 
be  to  clutch,  but,  if  possible,  to  push  back  to  safety. 
Could  the  youth  who  has  just  begun  to  taste  wine, 
and  the  young  man  his  first  drink  —  to  whom  it  is  as 
delicious  as  the  opening  scenes  of  a  visionary  life,  or 
the  entering  into  some  newly-discovered  paradise 
where  scenes  of  undimmed  glory  burst  upon  his  vis- 
ion—  but  see  the  end  of  all  that,  and  what  comes 
after,  by  looking  into  my  desolation,  and  be  made  to 
understand  what  a  dark  and  dreary  thing  it  is  for  a 
man  to  be  made  to  feel  that  he  is  going  over  a  pre- 
cipice with  his  eyes  wide  open,  with  a  will  that 
has  lost  power  to  prevent  it ;  could  he  see  my  hot, 
fevered  cheeks,  bloodshot  eyes,  bloated  face,  swollen 
fingers,  bruised  and  wounded  body ;  could  he  feel 
the  body  of  the  death  out  of  which  I  cry  hourly, 
with  feebler  and  feebler  outcry,  to  be  delivered; 
could  he  know  how  a  constant  wail  comes  up  and 
out  from  my  bleeding  heart,  and  begs  and  pleads  with 
a  great  agony  to  be  delivered  from  this  awful  demon, 
drink  ;  could  these  truths  but  go  home  to  the  hearts 
and  minds  of  the  young  men  of  the  land ;  could  they 


136  FIFTEEN  YEARS  IN  HELL. 

feel  for  but  one  single  moment  what  I  am  compelled 
to  live,  and  battle,  and  ensure  day  in,  and  day  out, 
until  the  days  drag  themselves  into  weeks  that  seem 
like  months,  and  months  that  seem  like  years,  striv- 
ing all  the  time,  a  living,  walking,  talking  death,  and 
cares,  pleasures,  and  joys,  all  gone,  yet  compelled  to 
endure  and  live,  or  rather  die,  on  ;  could  every  young 
man  feel  these  things  as  I  am  compelled  to  feel  and 
bear  them,  it  seems  to  me  that  it  would  be  enough  to 
make  them,  while  they  yet  have  the  power  to  do  it, 
dash  the  sparkling  damnation  to  the  earth  in  all  the 
pride  of  its  mantling  temptation. 

At  the  very  threshold  of  blooming  manhood  I  found 
myself  subject  to  all  the  disadvantages  which  man- 
kind, if  they  reflected  upon  them,  would  hesitate  to 
impose  upon  acknowledged  guilt.  In  every  human 
countenance  I  feared  to  find  an  enemy.  I  shrank 
from  the  vigilance  of  human  eyes.  I  dared  not  open 
my  heart  to  the  best  affections  of  our  nature,  for  a 
drunkard  is  supposed  to  have  no  love.  I  was  shut 
up  within  my  own  desolation  —  a  deserted,  solitary 
wretch  in  the  midst  *nf  my  species.  I  dared  not  look 
for  the  consolation  of  friendship,  for  a  drunkard  is 
always  the  subject  of  suspicion  and  distrust,  and  is 
not  supposed  to  be  possessed  of  those  finer  feelings 
:hat  find  men  as  friends.  Thus,  instead  of  identify- 
ug  myself  with  the  joys  and  sorrows  of  others,  and 


AUTOBIOGRAPHY  OF  LUTHER  BENSON.       137 

exchanging  the  delicious  gifts  of  confidential  sympa- 
thy, I  was  compelled  to  shrink  back  and  listen  to  the 
horrid  words,  You  are  a  drunkard  —  words  the  very 
mention  or  thought  of  which  has  ten  thousand  times 
carried  despair  to  my  heart,  and  made  me  gasp  and 
pant  for  breath.  Thus  it  was  at  the  very  opening  of 
life,  and  thus  it  ever  has  been,  and  thus  it  is  to-day. 
I  have  struggled,  and  with  streaming  eyes  tried  to 
wrench  the  chains  from  my  bruised  and  torn  body. 
My  weary  and  long-continued  struggles  led  to  no  ter- 
mination. Termination  !  No  !  The  lapse  of  time, 
that  cures  all  other  things,  but  makes  my  case  more 
desperate.  For  there  is  no  rest  for  me.  Whitherso- 
ever I  remove  myself,  this  detestable,  hated,  sleepless, 
never-tiring  enemy  is  in  my  rear.  What  a  dark,  mys- 
terious, unfeeling,  unrelenting  tyrant!  Is  it  come  to 
this?  When  Nero  and  Caligula  swayed  the  Roman 
scepter,  it  was  a  fearful  thing  to  offend  the  .bloody  rulers. 
The  Empire  had  already  spread  itself  from  climate 
to  climate,  and  from  sea  to  sea.  If  their  unhappy 
victim  fled  to  the  rising  of  the  sun,  where  the  lumin- 
ary of  day  seems  to  us  first  to  ascend  from  the  waves 
of  the  ocean,  the  power  of  the  tyrant  was  still  behind 
him;  if  he  withdrew  to  the  west,  to  Hesperian  dark- 
ness and  the  shores  of  barbarian  Thule,  still  he  was 
not  safe  from  his  gore-drenched  foe.  Rum !  Whisky ! 
Alcohol!  Fiend!  Monster!  evil!  Art  thou  the 


138  FIFTEEN  YEARS  IN  HELL. 

offspring  in  whom  the  lineaments  of  these  tyrants  are 
faithfully  preserved?  Was  the  world,  with  all  its  cli- 
mates, made  in  vain  for  thy  helpless,  unoffending  vic- 
tim? 

To  me  the  sun  brings  no  return  of  day.  Day  after 
day  rolLs  on,  and  my  state  is  immutable.  Existence 
is  to  me  a  scene  of  melancholy.  Every  moment  is  a 
moment  of  anguish,  with  a  trembling  fear  that  the 
coming  period  will  bring  a  severer  fate.  We  talk  of 
the  instruments  of  torture,  but  there  is  more  torture 
in  the  lingering  existence  of  a  man  that  is  in  the  iron 
clutches  of  a  monster  that  has  neither  eyes,  nor  ears, 
nor  bowels  of  compassion ;  a  venomous  enemy  that 
can  never  be  turned  into  a  friend;  a  silent,  sleepless 
foe,  that  shuts  out  from  the  light  of  day,  and  makes 
its  victim  the  associate  of  those  whom  society  has 
marked  for  her  abhorrence;  a  slave  loaded  with  fet- 
ters that  no  power  can  break ;  cut  off  from  all  that 
existence  has  to  bestow;  from  all  the  high  hopes  so 
often  conceived;  from  all  the  future  excellence  the 
soul  so  much  desires  to  imagine.  No  language  can 
do  justice  to  the  indignant  and  soul-sickening  loath- 
ing that  these  ideas  excite.  A.  thousand  times  I  have 
longed  for  death,  'and  wished,  with  an  expressible 
ardor,  for  an  end  to  what  I  suffered.  A  thousand 
times  I  have  meditated  suicide,  and  ruminated  in  my 
soul  upon  the  different  means  of  escaping  from  my 


AUTOBIOGRAPHY  OF  LUTHER  BENSON.       139 

load  of  existence.  A  thousand  times  in  wretched  bit- 
terness I  have  asked  myself,  What  have  I  to  do  with 
life  ?  I  have  seen  and  felt  enough  to  make  me  regard 
it  with  detestation.  Why  should  I  wait  the  linger- 
ing process  of  an  unfeeling  tyrant  that  is  slowly  tear- 
ing me  to  pieces,  and  not  dare  so  much  as  die  but 
when  and  how  the  marble-hearted  thing  decrees? 
Still,  some  inexplicable  suggestion  withheld  my  hand, 
and  caused  me  to  cling  with  desperate  fondness  to 
this  shadow  of  existence,  its  mysterious  'attractions, 
and  its  hopeless  prospects — appetite,  fiendish  thirst,  a 
burning,  ever-crying  demand  for  a  poison  that  is 
death,  and  for  which  a  man  will  give  his  body  and 
soul  as  a  sacrifice  to  whoever  will  satisfy  his  impe- 
rious cravings.  Let  this  appetite  entwine  itself  about 
a  man,  let  it  throw  its  iron  arms  about  his  bruised 
body,  and  he  will  curse  the  day  he  was  born.  But 
some  one  says,  Why  don't  you  quit?  Just  don't 
drink  !  In  answer  I  would  say,  O  God,  give  me  pov- 
erty, shower  upon  me  all  the  hardships  of  life,  turn 
me  a  prey  to  the  wild  beasts  of  the  desert,  so  I  be 
never  again  the  victim  of  rum.  Suffer  me  to  call  life 
and  the  pursuit  of  life  my  own,  free  from  the  appetite 
for  alcohol,  and  I  am  willing  to  hold  them  at  the 
mercy  of  the  elements,  the  hunger  of  beasts,  or  the 
revenge  of  cold-blooded  men.  All  of  these,  rather 
than  the  poison  of  the  accursed  cup. 


140  FIFTEEN  YEARS  IN  HELL. 

Solitude !  separation  !  banishment  !  These  are 
words  often  in  the  mouths  of  human  beings;  but 
few  men  except  myself  have  been  permitted  to  feel 
the  full  latitude  of  their  meaning.  The  pride  of 
philosophy  has  taught  us  to  treat  man  as  an  individ- 
ual. He  is  no  such  thing.  He  holds,  necessarily, 
indispensably,  a  relation  to  his  species.  He  is  like 
those  twin  births  that  have  two  heads  and  four  hands, 
but  if  you  attempt  to  detach  them  from  each  other, 
they  are  inevitably  subjected  to  a  miserable  and  lin- 
gering destruction.  If  a  man  wants  to  conceive  a 
lively  idea  of  the  regions  of  the  damned,  just  let 
him  get  himself  in  that  condition  that  he  is  alone 
with  an  enemy  while  he  is  surrounded  by  society  and 
his  friends  —  an  enemy  that  is  like  what  has  been 
described  as  the  eye  of  Omniscience  pursuing  the 
guilty  sinner  and  darting  a  ray  that  awakens  him  to 
a  new  sensibility  at  the  very  moment  that  otherwise 
exhausted  nature  would  lull  him  into  a  temporary 
oblivion  of  the  reproaches  of  his  conscience.  No 
walls  can  hide  me  from  the  discernment  of  my  hated 
foe.  Everywhere  his  industry  in  unwearied,  to  cre- 
ate for  me  new  distress.  Never  can  I  count  upon  an 
instant  of  security ;  never  can  I  wrap  myself  in  the 
shroud  of  oblivion.  The  minutes  in  which  I  do  not 
actually  perceive  and  feel  my  destroyer  are  contami- 
nated and  blasted  with  the  certain  expectation  of 


AUTOBIOGRAPHY  OF  LUTHER  BENSON. 

speedy  interference.     Thus  it  has  been,  and  thus  it  is 
to-day,  and  with  every  returning  day. 

Tyrants  have  trembled,  surrounded  by ,  whole 
armies  of  their  janizaries.  Alcohol — venomous 
serpent!  robber  and  reviler !  —  what  should  make 
thee  inaccessible  to  my  fury?  I  will  unfold  a  tale! 
I  will  show  thee  to  the  world  for  what  thou  art,  and 
all  the  men  that  read  .shall  confess  my  truth!  Whis- 
ky—  abhorrer  of  nature,  the  curse  of  the  human 
species! — the  earth  can  only  be  freed  from  an  insup- 
portable burden  by  thy  extermination!  Rum  — 
poisoner!  destroyer!  that  spits  venom  all  around,  and 
leaves  the  ground  infected  with  slime  !  Accursed 
ooison-makers  and  poison-dispensers!  —  do  you  im- 
agine that  I  am  altogether  passive  ;  a  mean  worm, 
organized  to  feel  sensations  of  pain,  but  having  no 
emotion  of  resentment?  Did  you  imagine  that  there 
was  no  danger  in  inflicting  on  me  pains,  however 
great;  miseries,  however  direful?  Do  you  believe 
me  impotent,  imbecile,  and  idiot-like,  with  no  under- 
standing to  contrive  my  escape  and  thy  ruin,  and  no 
energy  to  perpetrate  it?  I  will  tell  the  end  of  thy 
infernal  works.  The  country,  in  justice,  shall  hear 
me.  I  would  that  I  had  the  language  of  fire,  that 
my  words  might  glow,  and  burn,  and  drop  like  mol- 
ten lava,  that  I  might  wipe  you  from  the  face  of  the 
earth,  or  persuade  mankind  to  turn  away  and  starve 


142  FIFTt  EN  YEARS  IN  HELL. 

you  to  death.  Think  you  that  I  would  regret  tne 
ruin  that  had  overwhelmed  you  ?  Too  long  I  have 
been  tender-hearted  and  forbearing.  Whisky,  whis- 
ky sellers  and  whisky  makers,  traffickers  and  dealers 
in  tears,  blood,  sin,  shame,  and  woe!  —  ten  thousand 
times  you  have  dipped  your  bloody  talons  in  my 
blood.  There  is»no  evil  you  have  scrupled  to  accu- 
mulate upon  me  !  Neither  will  I  be  more  scrupulous. 
You  have  shown  me  no  mercy,  and  you  shall  receive 
none. 

Let  us  look  at  the  rumseller,  that  we  may  know 
what  manner  of  man  he  is,  and  then  ask  if  he  deserves 
the  pity,  sympathy,  or  respect  of  society,  or  any  part 
of  it.  Viewed  considerately,  in  the  light  of  their 
respective  motives,  the  drunkard  is  an  innocent  and 
honorable  man  in  comparison  with  the  retailer  of 
drinks.  The  one  yields  under  the  impulse — it  may 
be  the  torture — of  appetite ;  the  other  is  a  cool,  mer- 
cenary speculator,  thriving  on  the  frailties  and  vices 
of  others.  He  is  a  man  selling  for  gain  what  he 
knows  to  be  worthless  and  pernicious;  good  for  none, 
dangerous  for  all,  and  deadly  to  many.  He  has 
boked  in  the  face  the  sure  consequences  of  his  course, 
and  if  he  can  but  make  gain  of  it,  is  prepared  to  cor- 
rupt the  souls,  embitter  the  lives,  and  blast  the  pros- 
perity of  an  indefinite  number  of  his  fellow-creatures. 
By  the  selling  of  his  poisons  he  sees  that  with  terrible 


AUTOBIOGRAPHY  OF  LUTHER  BENSON.       143 

certainty,  along  with  the  havoc  of  health,  lives, 
homes,  and  souls  of  men,  he  can  succeed  in  setting 
afloat  a  certain  vast  amount  of  property,  and  that  as 
it  is  thrown  to  the  winds,  some  small  share  of  it  will 
float  within  his  grasp.  He  knows  that  if  men  remain 
virtuous  and  thrifty,  if  these  homes  around  him  con- 
tinue peaceful  and  joyous,  his  craft  can  not  prosper. 
The  injured  old  mothers,  the  wives,  and  the  sisters  are 
found  where  rum  is  sold.  Orphan  children  throng 
from  hut  and  hovel,  and  lift  their  childish  hands  in 
supplication,  asking  at  the  hands  of  the  guilty  whisky 
sellers  for  those  who  rocked  their  cradles,  and  fed  and 
loved  them.  The  murderer,  now  sober  and  crushed, 
lifts  his  manacled  hands,  red  with  blood,  and  charges 
his  ruin  upon  the  men  who  crazed  his  brain  with 
rum.  The  felon  comes  from  his  prison  tomb,  the 
pauper  from  his  dark  retreat,  where  the  rumseller 
has  driven  him  to  seek  an  evening's  rest  and  a  pau- 
per's grave.  From  ten  thousand  graves  the  sheeted 
dead  stalk  forth,  and  with  eyeless  sockets  and  bared 
teeth,  grin  most  ghastly  scorn  at  their  destroyers. 
The  lost  float  up  in  shadowy  forms,  and  wail  in  whis- 
pered despair.  Angels  turn  weeping  away,  and  God, 
upon  his  throne,  looks  in  anger,  and  hurls  a  woe 
upon  the  hand  which  "  putteth  a  bottle  to  his  neigh- 
bor's lips  to  make  him  drunken."  To  balance  all 
this  fearful  array  of  mischief  and  woe,  flowing  directly 


144  FIFTEEN  YEARS  IN  HELL. 

from  his  work,  the  dealer  in  ardent  spirits  can  bring 
nothing  but  the  plea  that  appetite  has  been  gratified. 
There  are  profits,  to  be  sure.  Death  finds  it  the 
most  liberal  purveyor  for  his  horrid  banquet,  and  hell 
from  beneath  it  is  moved  with  delight  at  the  fast- 
coming  profits  of  the  trade;  and  the  seller  also  gets 
gain.  Death,  hell,  and  the  rumseller — beyond  this 
partnership  none  are  profited.  Go  and  shake  their 
bloody  hands,  you  who  will !  The  time  will  be  when 
deep  down  in  hell  these  miserable,  blood-stained 
wretches  will  pant  for  one  drop  of  water,  and  curse 
the  day  and  hour  that  they  ever  sold  one  drop  of 
liquor. 

The  experience  of  ages  proves  that  the  use  of  intox- 
icating agents  invariably  tends  to  engender  a  burning 
appetite  for  more;  and  he  who  indulges  in  them  shall 
do  it  at  the  peril  of  contracting  a  passionate  and  rabid 
thirst  for  them,  which  shall  ultimately  overmaster  the 
will  of  his  victim,  and  drag  him,  unresisting,  to  his 
ruin.  No  man  can  put  himself  under  the  influence 
of  alcoholic  stimulants  without  incurring  the  risk  of 
this  result.  It  may  not  be  perceptible  at  once.  It 
may  be  interrupted,  and  while  the  bonds  are  yet  fee- 
ble he  may  escape.  But  let  the  habit  go  forward,  tho 
excitement  be  often  repeated,  and  soon  a  deep- wrought 
physical  effect  will  be  produced;  a  headlong  and  al- 
most delirious  appetite,  of  the  nature  of  a  physical 


AUTOBIOGRAPHY  OF  LUTHER  BENSON.       145 

necessity,  will  have  seized  the  whole  man  as  with 
iron  arms,  and  crushed  from  his  heart  the  power  of 
self-control. 

My  whole  nature  was  almost  constantly  demanding 
and  crying  out  for  stimulants.  During  the  period 
that  I  abstained  from  them,  and  for  two  weeks  before 
I  touched  or  tasted  them  the  last  time,  my  agony  was 
unbearable.  In  my  sleep  I  dreamed  that  I  was  drink- 
ing, and  dreamed  that*  I  was  drunk.  Day  by  day 
my  appetite  grew  fiercer  and  more  unbearable,  until 
in  my  misery  I  walked  my  floor  hour  after  hour,  un- 
•able  to  sleep,  and  feeling  that  if  I  lay  down  I  should 
die.  One  night,  about  a  week  before  I  yielded,  I 
walked  my  room  until  midnight,  suffering  the  tor- 
ments of  hell.  I  felt  that  I  was  dying,  and  rushed 
out  of  my  room  and  walked  and  ran  across  fields  and 
through  the  woods,  panting  and  gasping  for  breath. 
I  felt  that  my  head  was  bursting  to  pieces.  My  blood 
boiled,  and  hissed,  and  foamed  through  my  veins.  I 
could  feel  my  heart  throb  and  beat  as  though  it  would 
burst  out  of  my  body.  At  that  time  I  would  have 
torn  the  veins  of  my  arms  open,  if  I  could  have  drawn 
whisky  from  them.  When  light  came,  I  found  that  I 
had  walked  and  run  seven  miles  since  leaving  my 
room  at  midnight.  All  that  day  I  was  burning  up 
for  liquor.  Had  I  been  where  I  could  lay  my  hands 
10 


146  FIFTEEN  YEARS  IN  HELL. 

on  it,  a  thousand  times  that  day  I  would  have  drank 
though  it  steeped  my  soul  in  rivers  of  death. 

In  just  this  condition   I  went  to  Indianapolis  to 
address  the  Woman's  Temperance  Convention.     I  felt 
that  I  would  drop  dead  before  I  finished  my  speech. 
That  night  I  did  not  sleep  more  than  an  hour,  and 
fhat  was  a  miserable  hour  of  sleep,  fn  which  I  dreamed 
that  I  was  drunk.      I  woke  up  with  a  burning  thirst, 
and  sharp  pains  darting  through  my  brain.     The  very 
least  noise  would  send  a  new  pang  to  my  head,  and 
when  I  attempted  to  walk,  my  own  footsteps  would 
jar  upon  my  brain   as  though  knives   were   driven 
through  it.     The  next  day  and  night  I  fought  it  like 
a  tiger,  but  my  thirst  only  increased,  and  then  one 
gets  tired  at  last  of  fighting  an  enemy  all  day,  know- 
ing that  he  must  confront  that  same  enemy  the  next 
day,  and  the  next,  for  one  can  not  live  always  on  a 
strain,  always  in  fear,  and  doubt,  and  dread.     The 
next  day  I  started  for  Richmond,  where  I  had  busi- 
ness, intending  to  go  from  there  to  Cincinnati  and 
Covington,  and    thence  East.      I  got   to  Richmond, 
haunted,  every  inch  of  the  road,  with  an  inexpressible 
longing  for  stimulants.     When  I  got  there,  I  knew 
that  I  was  where  I  could  get  a  little  rest  from  my 
intense  suffering,  for  I  could  get  whisky.     When  the 
thought  of  what  would  be  the  result  of  touching  it 
forced  itself  on  my  mind,  my  agony  was  so  terrible 


AUTOBIOGRAPHY  OF  LUTHER  BENSON.       \^\ 

that  I  could  feel  the  sweat  streaming  down  my  face,, 
and  I  could  have  wrung  water  from  my  hair. 

If  ever  there  was  a  man  in  ruins,  a  perfect  spec- 
tacle of  utter  desolation,  I  was  that  man,  as  I  stood  in 
the  depot  at  Richmond,  burning  up  for  whisky.  Had 
I  been  standing  on  red-hot  embers  my  sufferings 
could  not  have  been  more  intense.  I  feel  that  I  can 
almost  hear  some  one  say,  "Why  did  you  not  pray? 
just  go  and  ask  God  to  help  you."  I  have  been  told 
to  do  that  ten  thousand  times  by  good-meaning  men 
and  women,  who  do  not  know  how  to  pray  as  I  do, 
and  never  will  until  (which  God  forbid)  they  have 
suffered  as  I  have.  I  did  pray,  and  beg,  and  plead 
for  mercy  and  help,  but  the  heavens  were  solid  brass 
and  the  earth  hard  iron,  and  God  did  not  hear  or 
heed  my  prayers.  Talk  about  having  the  appetite 
for  stimulants  removed  by  prayer!  That  appetite  is 
just  as  much  the  part  of  a  man  as  his  hand,  heart, 
brain,  or  any  other  part  of  his  body.  Every  one  of 
God's  laws  are  unchangeable  and  immutable.  The 
day  of  miracles  is  over.  When  one  of  God's  crea- 
tures violates  his  laws,  he  must  pay  the  penalty;  and. 
I  think  it  would  be  far  better  to  educate  the  rising 
generation  that  there  is  no  escape  for  them  from  the 
consequences  of  their  acts,  than  to  preach  them  into 
the  belief  that  they  may  for  years  pursue  a  course  of 
dissipation,  violate  every  law  of  their  being,  and  then 


148  FIFTEEN  YEARS  IN  HELL. 

by  prayer  have  the  chains  of  habit  stricken  off  and  be 
restored  whole. 

Then  there  is  another  class  of  individuals  who 
have  said  to  me,  "  When  you  get  into  that  condition, 
when  you  feel  that  you  must  have  liquor,  why  don't 
you  just  take  a  little  in  moderation  ?"  Moderation  ! 
A  drink  of  liquor  is  to  my  appetite  what  a  red-hot 
coal  of  fire  is  to  a  keg  of  dry  powder.  You  can  just 
as  easily  shoot  a  ball  from  a  cannon's  mouth  moder- 
ately, or  fire  off  a  magazine  slowly,  as  I  can  drink 
liquor  moderately.  When  I  take  one  drink,  if  it  is 
but  a  taste,  I  must  have  more,  if  I  knew  hell  would 
burst  out  of  the  earth  and  engulf  me  the  next 
instant.  I  am  either  perfectly  sober,  with  no  smell 
of  liquor  about  me,  or  I  am  very  drunk.  Some  of 
those  moderate  drinkers,  who  are  increasing  theii 
moderation  a  little  every  day,  and  also  some  pretend- 
ed temperance  people,  who  are  always  suspicious  of 
others,  because  they  are  sneaking,  cowardly,  sly,  de 
ceitful  and  treacherous  themselves,  are  constantly 
asking  me  if  I  do  not  drink  a  little  all  the  time. 
And  then  they  say  I  use  morphine  and  opium.  There 
i.s  nothing  that  has  made  me  more  wretched,  and  done 
more  to  weaken  and  drag  me  down,  than  the  contin- 
ued accusation  of  doing  something  that  it  is  just  as 
impossible  for  me  to  do  as  it  would  be  to  live  with- 
out breathing;  that  is,  to  take  a  drink  of  liquor 


AUTOBIOGRAPHY  OF  LUTHER  BENSON.       J49 

without  getting  drunk.  And  if  there  is  any  one 
thing  that  will  make  me  hate  a  man  —  loathe,  abhor, 
and  despise  him  —  it  is  to  have  him  accuse  me  of 
drinking  or  using  any  kind  of  stimulants  regularly 
and  moderately.  I  just  want  to  say  here,  now,  and 
for  all  time,  that  they  who  thus  accuse  me,  lie  in 
their  teeth,  mouth,  throat,  and  away  down  deep  in 
their  dirty,  cowardly,  craven,  black  hearts. 

I  walked  from  the  depot  in  Richmond — or,  rather, 
almost  ran  —  until  I  came  to  a  drug  store  kept  by  a 
young  man  I  have  known  for  five  or  six  years.  He 
keeps  nearly  all  drugs  in  barrels,  well  watered,  and 
drinks  them  regularly,  and,  as  he  calls  it,  moderate- 
ly. That  is  to  say,  he  has  npt  been  sober  for  five 
years.  Always  full,  bloated,  imbecile,  idiotic  —  has 
no  idea  of  quiting  himself,  and  would  suffer  as  keen- 
ly as  any  brute  is  capable  of  suffering,  at  the  thought 
of  any  one  else  who  is  in  the  habit  of  drinking  be- 
coming a  sober  man.  When  I  went  in,  he  was 
leaning  back  in  a  chair  dozing,  dreaming,  drunk,  or 
as  drunk  as  that  kind  of  a  man  generally  gets.  I 
asked  him  for  whisky.  He  straightened  up,  and  a 
more  fiendish  gleam  of  joy  than  lit  up  his  brutal  face 
never  sat  upon  the  hideous  countenance  of  a  fiend 
fresh  from  hell.  He  got  up  to  get  me  the  liquor,  say- 
ing at  the  same  time,  "  I  will  bet  you  five  dollars  you 
are  drunk  before  night."  I  looked  at  him,  saw  the 


150  FIFTEEN  YEARS  IN  HELL. 

smile  of  joy,  and  the  intense  pleasufe  that  my  getting 
drunk  was  going  to  afford  him.  Suffering,  choking, 
and  almost  bereft  of  reason,  as  I  was,  his  look  and 
act  caused  me  to  hesitate  and  wonder  what  manner  of 
man  it  was  that  was  so  utterly  base  and  heartless  as 
to  rejoice  at  the  ruin  of  one  whose  continued  prayer 
is  to  live  and  die  sober.  Then  and  there  I  prayed 
God  to  deliver  me  from  such  friends,  and  keep  me 
from  their  accursed  influence.  Hell  knows  no 
blacker  deformity  than  that  which  would  drag  a 
fellow-creature  again  to  degradation.  Satan  was  as 
much  a  friend  of  human  happiness  when  he  slimed 
into  Eden.  In  my  very  youth,  I  made  a  resolve  that 
I  never  would,  knowingly,  stand  in  the  path  of  any 
man  and  a  better  life;  that  I  would  never  do  any- 
thing to  prevent  a  man  from  leading  a  better  life, 
and  I  have  never  broken  that  resolution.  I  gathered 
strength  and  courage  enough,  by  a  desperate  effort, 
to  get  out  of  the  store  without  drinking,  and  started 
in  an  opposite  direction  from  where  anything  was 
kept  to  drink. 

I  had  gone  but  a  short  distance,  when  there  was  no 
longer  any  enduring  of  the  torture.  I  turned  back 
and  went  into  another  drug  store,  and  told  the  pro- 
prietor that  I  was  sick,  and  asked  him  for  whisky 
with  some  kind  of  medicine  in  it.  The  man  who 
gave  it  was  not  to  blame,  for  he  knew  nothing  about 


AUTOBIOGRAPHY  OF  LUTHER  BENSON. 

me,  nor  the  fiendish  thirst  with  which  I  was  possessed ; 
and  while  he  was  not  more  than  a  minute  getting  the 
liquor  for  me,  it  seemed  an  age,  and  when  I  took  the 
glass,  I  read  "death"  in  it  just  as  plainly  as  ever 
"death"  was  written  upon  the  field  of  battle.  I  hesi- 
tated a  moment,  while  something  whispered,  "  Death!" 
I  struggled,  but  could  not  let  go  of  the  glass.  1  felt 
the  hot,  scalding  tears  come  in  my  eyes.  I  thought 
if  I  could  only  die — just  drop  dead;  but  I  could  not, 
yet  I  felt  that  I  was  dying  ten  thousand  deaths  all  the 
time!  I  lifted  the  glass  and  drank  death  and  damna- 
tion !  I  drank  the  red  blood  of  butchery  and  the 
fiery  beverage  of  hell!  It  glowed  like  hot  lava  in  my 
blood,  and  burned  upon  my  tongue's  end.  A  smoul- 
dering fire  was  kindled.  A  wild  glow  shot  through 
every  vein,  and  within  my  stomach  the  demon  was 
aroused  to  his  strength.  I  had  now  but  one  thought, 
but  one  burning  desire  that  was  consuming  me — that 
was  for  more  drink!  It  crept  to  my  fingers' ends, 
and  out  in  a  burning  flush  upon  my  cheek.  Drink  ! — 
DRINK!  I  would  have  had  it  then  if  I  had  been 
compelled  to  go  to  hell  for  it !  But  I  got  it  just  one 
step  this  side  the  regions  of  the  damned.  I  went  to  a 
saloon  and  commenced  to  pour  it  down,  and  continued 
until  I  was  crazed.  All  power  over  my  appetite  was 
gone:  I  was  oblivious  to  everything  around  me.  I 
took  the'train  for  Cincinnati.  I  have  a  dim,  shud- 


152  FIFTEEN  YEARS  IN  HELL. 

dering  remembrance  of  some  parties  at  the  depot  try- 
ing to  keep  me  from  taking  the  cars.  I  don't  knew 
who  they  were,  or  what  they  said.  I  got  to  the  city 
that  night,  and  staid  at  the  Gait  House.  I  have  no 
remembrance  of  anything  from  the  time  I  left  Rich- 
mond until  I  awoke  next  day  about  ten  o'clock,  with 
an  aching  head,  swollen  tongue,  burnt,  black,  parched 
lips,  and  a  thirst  for  whisky  that  was  maddening. 
Death  would  have  been  kindness  compared  to  what  I 
suffered  that  morning. 

And  here  let  me  ask  the  reader  to  indulge  me  for 
a  while,  that  I  may  explain  just  the  condition  I  was 
in,  both  physically  and  mentally.  I  know  just  how 
much  charity  I  am  to  expect  and  receive  from  the 
corrupt  wilderness  of  human  society,  for  it  is  a  rank 
and  rotten  soil,  from  which  every  shrub  draws  poison 
as  it  grows.  All  that  in  a  happier  field  and  purer  air 
would  expand  into  virtue  and  germinate  into  useful- 
ness is  converted  into  henbane  and  deadly  night- 
shade. I  know  how  hard  it  is  to  get  human  society 
to  regard  one's  acts  as  other  than  his  deliberate  inten-. 
tions.  But  of  being  a  drunkard  by  choice,  and  be- 
cause I  have  not  cared  for  the  consequences,  I  am 
innocent.  I  can  say,  and  speak  the  truth,  that  there 
is  not  a  person  on  earth  less  capable  than  myself  of 
recklessly  and  purposely  plunging  himself  into  shame, 
suffering  and  sin.  I  will  never  believe  that  a  man. 


AUTOBIOGRAPHY  OF  LUTHER  BENSON.       153 

Conscious  of  innocence,  can  not  make  other  men  per- 
ceive that  he  has  that  thought.  I  have  been  miser- 
able all  my  life.  I  have  been  harshly  treated  by 
mankind,  in  being  accused  of  wickedly  doing  that 
which  I  abhor,  and  against  which  I  have  fought  with 
3very  energy  I  possessed.  The  greatest  aggravation 
of  my  life  has  been  that  I  could  not  make  mankind 
believe,  or  understand,  my  real  and  true  condition. 
I  can  safely  affirm  that  a  blasted  character,  and  the 
curses  that  have  clung  to  my  name,  have  all  of  them 
been  slight  misfortunes  compared  to  this.  I  have  for 
years  endeavored  to  sustain  myself  by  the  sense  of  my 
integrity ;  but  the  voice  of  no  man  on  earth  echoed  to 
ihe  voice  of  my  conscience.  I  called  aloud,  but  there 
was  none  to  answer ;  there  was  none  that  regarded. 
To  me  the  whole  world  has  been  as  unhearing  as  the 
tempest,  and  as  cold  as  the  iceberg.  Sympathy,  the 
magnetic  virtue,  the  hidden  essence  of  our  life,  was 
extinct.  Nor  has  this  been  the  whole  sum  of  my 
misery.  The  food  so  essential  to  an  intelligent  exist- 
ence, seemed  perpetually  renewing  before  me  in  its 
fairest  colors,  only  the  more  effectually  to  elude  my 
grasp  and  to  attack  my  hunger.  Ten  thousand  times 
I  have  been  prompted  to  unfold  the  affections  of  my 
soul,  only  to  be  repelled  with  the  greatest  anguish, 
until  my  reflections  continually  center  upon  and 
within  myself,  where  wretchedness  and  sorrow  dwell, 


154  FIFTEEN   YEARS  IN  HELL. 

undisturbed  by  one  ray  of  hope  and  light.  It  seems 
to  me  that  any  person  but  a  fool  would  know  that  I 
had  not  purposely  led  the  life  of  misery  that  has 
marked  my  steps  for  fifteen  years  It  would  have 
been  merciful  in  comparison,  if  I  had  planted  a  dag- 
ger in  my  heart,  for  I  have  suffered  an  anguish  v 
thousand  times  worse  than  death.  I  would  have  had 
liquor  that  morning  at  Cincinnati  if  I  had  known  that 
one  single  drink  would  have  obliterated  my  body, 
soul,  and  spirit.  I  had  no  power  to  resist;  and  to 
prove  that  I  was  powerless,  let  us  see  what  effect  alco- 
hol, in  its  physiological  aspect,  exerts. 

Alcohol  possesses  three  distinct  properties,  and  con- 
sequently produces  a  threefold  physiological  effect. 

1 .  It  has  a  nervine  property,  by  which  it  excites  tht 
nervous  system  inordinately,  and  exhilarates  the  brain. 

2.  It  has  a  stimulating  property,  by  which  it  inor- 
dinately excites  the  muscular  motions,  and  the  actions 
of  the  heart  and  blood-vessels. 

3.  It  has  a  narcotic  property.      The  operation  of 
this  property  is  to  suspend  the  nervous  energies,  and 
soothe  and  stupefy  the  subject. 

Now,  any  article  possessing  either  one,  or  but  two 
of  these  properties,  without  the  other,  is  a  simple  and 
harmless  thing  compared  with  alcohol.  It  is  only 
because  alcohol  possesses  this  combination  of  proper- 
ties, by  which  it  operates  on  various  organs,  and 


AUTOBIOGRAPHY  OF  LUTHER  BENSON.       155 

affects  several  functions  in  different  ways  at  one  and 
the  same  time,  that  its  potency  is  so  dreadful,  and  its 
influence  so  fascinating,  when  once  the  appetite  is 
thoroughly  depraved  by  its  use.  It  excites  and  calms, 
it  stimulates  and  prostrates,  it  disturbs  and  soothes,  it 
energizes  and  exhausts,  it  exhilarates  and  stupefies 
simultaneously.  Now,  what  rational  man  would  ever 
pretend  that  in  going  through  a  long  course  of  fever, 
when  his  nerves  were  impaired,  his  brain  inflamed, 
his  blood  fermenting,  and  his  strength  reduced,  that 
he  would  be  able,  through  all  the  commotion  and 
change  of  organism,  to  govern  his  tastes,  control  his 
morbid  cravings,  and  regulate  his  words,  thoughts 
and  actions?  Yet  these  same  persons  will  accuse, 
blame,  and  curse  the  man.  who  does  not  control  his 
appetite  for  alcohol,  while  his  stomach  is  inflamed, 
blood  vitiated,  brain  hardened,  nerves  exhausted,  sen- 
ses perverted,  and  all  his  feelings  changed  by  the 
accursed  stuff  with  which  he  has  been  poisoning  him- 
self to  death,  piecemeal,  for  years,  and  which  sud- 
denly, and  all  at  once,  manifests  its  accumulated 
strength  over  him.  In  sixteen  months  I  have  fought 
a  thousand  battles,  every  one  more  fearful  than  the 
soldier  faces  upon  the  field  of  conflict,  where  it  rains 
lead  and  hails  shot  and  shell,  and  I  have  been  victo- 
rious nine  hundred  and  ninety-eight  times.  How 
many  of  these  who  blame  me  would  have  been  more 


15G  FIFTEEN   YEARS  IN  HELL. 

successful?  A  man  does  not  come  out  of  the  flame> 
of  alcohol  and  heal  himself  in  a  day.  It  is  struggle, 
and  conflict,  and  woe;  but  at  last,  and  finally,  it  is 
glorious  victory.  And  if  my  friends  will  not  forsake 
me,  I  will  promise  them  a  victory  over  rum  that  shall 
be  complete  and  entire.  I  have  neither  the  heart 
nor  the  desire  to  attempt  a  description  of  my  drunk 
at  Cincinnati.  Those  who  have  never  been  in  that 
condition  could  not  understand  it;  and  to  those  who 
have,  it  needs  no  description. 

I  was  at  the  Gait  House  for  about  ten  days,  and 
during  all  that  time  I  was  as  oblivious  to  all  that  was 
passing  as  if  I  had  been  dead  and  buried ;  I  did  not 
know  day  from  night.  I  have  no  remembrance  of 
eating  anything  during  the  whole  time  I  was  there. 
I  only  remember  a  burning  thirst  for  whisky  that 
seemed  to  be  consuming  me.  The  more  I  drank,  the 
more  I  wanted.  Afitfir  the  first  four  nights  I  could 
get  no  sleep,  so  I  just  staid  up  and  drank  all  night, 
until,  for  the  want  of  slumber,  my  whole  body  was  torn 
with  torment  for  long  days  and  nights.  I  knew  from 
former  experience  what  was  the  awful  ending!  None 
'who  have  ever  even  seen  a  victim  cursed  with  delir- 
ium tremens  will  ever  wish  to  look  upon  the  like 
again.  No  human  language  can  describe  it;  but  its 
scenes  burn  in  the  eyeball  so  deeply  that  they  never 
pass  away.  During  the  time,  all  the  dread  enginery 


AUTOBIOGRAPHY  OF  LUTHER  BENSON.       157 

of  hell  is  planted  in  the  victim's  brain  and  he  sub- 
ject to  its  terrible  torments.  Most  persons  laugh  at 
the  idea  of  one  having  the  tremens,  and  think  it  a 
sign  of  weakness.  But  there  is  more  disgrace  and 
shame  for  the  man  who  can  drink  liquor  to  intoxica- 
tion for  ten  years,  and  escape  the  drunkard's  madness, 
than  there  is  for  the  man  who  has  had  the  tremens 
two  or  three  times  during  that  period.  Tremens  are 
brought  about  by  the  effects  of  the  liquor  upon  the 
brain  and  nerves,  and  the  less  brain  or  nerves  a  man 
has  the  less  liable  he  is  to  be  a  subject  of  the  tre- 
mens. While  in  this  situation  the  victim  imagines 
that  everything  is  real,  and  thinks  and  believes  every 
object  he  sees  actually  exists.  With  this  explanation, 
I  will  now  proceed  to  tell  what  I  have  seen,  felt,  and 
heard,  while  in  that  condition. 

I  had  felt  the  delirium  tremens  coming  on  for  two 
or  three  days.  I  was  just  standing  on  the  verge  of  a 
mighty  precipice,  unable  to  retrace  my  steps,  and 
shuddering  as  I  involuntarily  leaned  over  and  looked 
down  into  the  vortex  which  my  wild  and  heated  im- 
agination opened  before  me ;  and  I  could  see  the  lost 
writhe,  and  hear  them  howl  in  their  infernal  orgies. 
The  wail,  the  curse,  and  the  awful  and  unearthly  ha! 
ha!  came  fearfully  up  before  me.  I  had  got  into 
that  condition  that  not  one  drop  of  stimulants  would 
remain  on  my  stomach.  I  had  been  vomiting  for 


158  FIFTEEN  YEARS  IN  HELL. 

more  than  forty-eight  hours  every  drop  that  I  drank. 
In  that  condition  I  went  into  a  saloon  and  asked  for 
a  drink ;  and  as  I  tremblingly  poured  it  out,  a  snake 
shot  its  head  up  out  of  the  liquor,  and  with  swaying 
head,  and  glistening  eye  looking  at  me,  licked  out  its 
forked  tongue,,  and  hissed  in  my  face.  I  felt  my 
blood  run  cold  and  curdle  at  my  heart. 

I  left  the  glass  untouched,  and  walked  out  on  the 
street.  By  a  terrible  effort  of  my  will,  I,  to  some 
extent,  shook  off*  the  terrible  phantom.  I  felt  that  if 
I  could  get  some  stimulants  to  remain  on  my  stom- 
ach I  might  escape  the  terrible  torments  that  were 
gathering  about  me ;  and  yet,  at  the  very  thought  of 
touching  the  accursed  stuff  again,  I  could  see  the  head 
of  that  snake,  and  could  hear  ten  thousand  hisses  all 
around  me,  and  feel  it  writhing  and  crawling  through 
-every  vein  of  my  body;  while  at  the  same  time  I  was 
scorching  and  burning  to  death  for  more  whisky.  At 
that  time  I  would  have  marched  across  a  mine  with  a 
match  touched  to  it;  I  would  have  walked  before 
exploding  cannons  for  more  liquor.  I  went  to  another 
saloon,  thinking  I  might  get  a  drink  to  stay  on  my 
stomach,  and  steady  my  nerves,  and  give  me  strength 
to  get  home  before  I  died;  for  I  felt  that  this  time 
there  could  be  no  escape  from  death.  This  time  I 
was  afraid  to  touch  the  bottle,  and  stood  back,  shak- 
ing and  shuddering  in  every  limb,  while  the  mur- 


AUTOBIOGRAPHY  OF  LUTHER  BENSON.       159 

derer  poured  out  the  whisky;  and  again  that  liquor 
turned  to  snakes,  and  they  crawled  around  the  glass, 
and  on  the  bar,  and  hissed,  writhed,  and  squirmed. 
Then  in  one  instant  they  all  coiled  about  each  other, 
and  matted  themselves  into  one  snake,  with  a  hun- 
dred heads;  and  from  every  head  glittering  eyes 
gleamed,  and  forked  tongues  hissed  at  me.  I  rushed 
from  the  saloon,  and  started,  I  did  not  know  or  care 
where,  so  that  I  might  escape  my  tormentors.  I  had 
walked  but  a  short  distance,  when  a  dog  as  large  as  a 
calf  sprang  up  before  me,  and  commenced  to  growl 
and  snap  at  me.  I  picked  up  a  stick  about  three  feet 
long,  thinking  to  defend  myself;  but  just  as  soon^as  I 
took  that  stick  in  my  hand,  it  turned  to  a  snake.  I 
could  feel  its  slimy  body  writhe  and  squirm  in  my 
hands,  and  in  trying  to  hold  it  to  keep  it  from  biting 
me,  every  finger-nail  cut  like  a  knife  into  the  palm 
of  my  hand,  and  the  blood  streamed  down  over  that 
stick,  that  to  me  was  a  living  snake.  Hell  is  a 
heaven  compared  to  what  I  suffered  at  that  time. 

At  last  I  dashed  the  cursed  thing  from  me,  and  ran 
for  my  life.  I  got  to  some  depot,  I  don't  know  what 
one,  and  took  the  cars.  I  didn't  know  or  care  where 
I  went;  at  about  ten  miles  above  Cincinnati  I  left  the 
cars.  At  times,  for  a  little  while,  I  could  reason  and 
understand  my  condition.  I  found,  on  looking  around, 
that  I  was  in  a  little  town,  where  a  young  man  lived 


160  FIFTEEN  YEARS  IN  HELL. 

who  had  been  a. college  mate  of  mine.  I  went  and  told 
him  my  condition,  and  he  did  for  me  everything  that 
one  friend  can  do  for  another.  But  as  night  came  on 
my  tormentors  returned  in  ten  thousand  hideous 
forms,  and  drove  me  raving  mad.  I  went  to  a  hotel, 
and  there  they  persuaded  me  to  lie  down.  Just  as 
soon  as  I  got  to  bed  I  reached  ray  hand  over,  and  it 
touched  a  cold,  dead  corpse.  The  room  lighted  up 
with  a  hundred  bright  lights,  and  that  corpse,  that 
now  appeared  to  me  like  nothing  that  had  ever  been 
visible  in  human  shape,  opened  its  large,  glassy,  dead 
eyes,  and  stared  me  in  the  face.  Then  its  whole 
face  and  form  turned  to  a  demon,  and  its  red  eyes 
glared  at  me,  and  its  whole  face  was  full  of  passion, 
fierceness  and  frenzy.  I  shrank  back  from  the  loath- 
some monster.  On  looking  around,  I  beheld  every- 
thing in  my  vision  turn  to  a  living  devil.  Chairs, 
stand,  bed,  and  my  very  clothes,  took  shape  and  form, 
and  lived;  and  every  one  of  them  cursed  me.  Then 
in  one  corner  of  my  room,  a  form,  larger  and  more 
hideous  than  all  the  others,  appeared.  Its  look  was 
that  of  a  witch,  or  hag,  or  rather  like  descriptions 
that  I  had  read  of  them.  It  marched  right  up  to  me, 
with  a  face  and  look  that  will  haunt  me  to  my  grave. 
It  began  to  talk  to  me,  saying  that  it  would  thrust  its 
fingers  through  my  ribs,  and  drink  my  blood;  then  it 
would  stick  out  its  long,  bony,  skeleton-like  fingers, 


AUTOBIOGRAPHY  OF' LUTHER  BENSON. 

that  looked  like  sharp  knives,  and  ha !  ha !  Then 
it  said  it  would  sit  upon  me  and  press  me  to  hell; 
that  it  would  roast  me  with  brimstone,  and  dash  my 
burnt  entrails  into  my  eyes.  Saying  this,  it  sprang 
at  me,  and,  for  what  seemed  to  me  an  age,  I  fought 
the  unearthly  thing.  At  last  it  said,  "Let  me  go!" 
and  when  it  did,  it  glided  to  the  door,  and  as  it  went 
out,  gave  me  a  fiendish  look,  and  said,  "I  will  soon 
be  back,  with  all  the  legions  of  hell ;  I  will  be  the 
death  of  you ;  you  shall  not  be  alive  one  hour."  I 
left  my  room,  and  just  as  soon  as  I  touched  the  street 
I  stepped  on  a  dead  body.  The  whole  pavement  and 
street  were  filled;  men,  and  women,  and  little  child- 
ren, lying  with  their  pale  faces  turned  up  to  heaven  ; 
some  looked  as  though  they  were  asleep ;  others  had 
died  in  awful  agony,  and  their  faces  wore  horrid  con- 
tortions; while  some  had  their  eyes  burst  from  their 
heads.  Every  time  I  moved  I  stepped  on  a  dead 
body,  and  it  would  come  to  life,  and  rear  up  in  my 
face;  and  when  I  would  step  on  a  baby  corpse  it 
would  wail  in  a  plaintive,  baby  wail,  and  its  dead 
mother  would  come  to  life  and  rush  at  me,  while  a 
thousand  devils  would  curse  me  for  stepping  on  the 
dead.  I  would  tremble  and  beg,  and  try  to  find  some 
place  to  put  my  feet;  but  the  dead  were  in  heaps,  and 
covered  the  whole  ground,  so  that  I  could  neither 
11 


162  FIFTEEN  YEARS  IN  HELL. 

walk  nor  stand  without  being  on  a  corpse.  If  I  step- 
ped, it  was  on  a  dead  body,  and  it  would  rise  up  and 
throw  its  arms  about  me,  and  curse  me  for  trampling 
on  it ;  and  it  was  in  this  way  that  I  put  in  that  whole 
night. 

|  When  light  dawned  the  horrible  objects  disap- 
peared to  some  extent,  and  by  a  terrible  effort  I  was 
able  to  control  my  mind,  and  reason  on  my  condition. 
I  was  weak,  nervous,  and  sick.  I  thought  I  would 
eat  something,  and  try  to  gain  a  little  strength.  The 
very  moment  that  I  sat  down  to  the  breakfast  table, 
every  dish  on  that  table  turned  to  a  living,  moving, 
horrid  object.  The  plates,  cups,  knives  and  forks 
became  turtles,  frogs,  scorpions,  and  commenced  to 
live  and  move  toward  me.  I  left  the  table  without 
eating  a  bite.  I  went  back  to  the  city  that  day.  I 
had  but  just  got  there  when  I  wanted  some  whisky. 
I  took  a  drink.  During  the  day  I  drank  as  many  as 
twenty  glasses  of  liquor,  and  by  evening  I  had  got 
myself  so  steadied  that  I  took  the  cars  for  home.  I 
got  as  far  as  Connersville,  where  I  remained  during 
the  balance  of  my  drunk.  I  kept  drinking  for  three 
or  four  days,  and  then  commenced  to  vomit  again. 
By  this  time  I  had  got  so  weak  that  it  was  with  the 
greatest  effort  that  I  could  stand  on  my  feet  or  walk 
one  step.  I  felt  the  madness  coming  on  again  with 
tenfold  fury.  My  terrible  fear  gave  me  more  strength. 


AUTOBIOGRAPHY  OF  LUTHER  BENSON.       163 

I  left  the  house,  and  started  out  on  the  road,  and  in 
an  instant  I  was  surrounded  by  what  seemed  a  million 
of  demons  and  devils ;  it  seemed  as  though  hell  had 
opened  up  before  me.  The  earth  burst  open  under 
my  feet,  and  hot,  rolling  flame  was  all  around  me.  I 
could  feel  my  hair  and  eyebrows  scorch  and  burn; 
then  in  a  moment  everything  would  change.  I  could 
hear  a  thousand  voices,  all  talking  to  me  at  the  same 
time,  and  every  one  threatening  me  with  some  horrid 
death ;  then  I  would  be  surrounded  with  wild  an- 
imals, fighting  and  tearing  each  other  to  pieces, 
and  glaring  at  me,  while  devils  told  me  they  would 
tear  me  to  pieces ;  then  a  tiger  took  my  whole  arm 
between  his  bloody  jaws,  and  mashed  and  mangled  it 
to  pieces,  and  tore  that  arm  from  my  shoulder;  then 
some  fiend,  in  the  shape  of  an  old  hag,  would  come 
up  and  pour  red-hot  embers  into  the  bleeding  wound, 
from  which  my  arm  had  been  torn.  When  I  screamed 
in  agony,  devils  would  laugh  a  horrid,  devilish  laugh. 
I  looked  down  and  saw  a  jug  of  liquor  at  my  feet, 
and  when  I  reached  down  to  get  it  I  heard  the  click 
of  a  hundred  pistols,  and  a  grinning  black  devil 
threw  his  claws  over  the  jug;  then  devils  and  witches 
boiled  the  whisky.  I  could  see  it  on  the  fire,  and 
hear  it  seethe  and  foam ;  then  they  danced  around 
me,  and  said  they  had  the  liquor  so  hot  that  it  would 
scald  me  to  death ;  then  they  pried  open  my  mouth, 


164  FIFTEEN  YEARS  IN  HELL. 

and  poured  it  down  my  throat.  I  could  feel  my 
brain  bursting  out  of  ray  head,  as  that  boiling  liquor 
scalded  and  burned  my  tongue  out  of  my  mouth,  and 
that  tongue  turned  to  a  snake,  and  with  forked 
tongue  hissed  at  me. 

The  next  thing  I  found  myself  standing  on  a  rail- 
road track;  I  could  just  see  the  headlight  of  the  en- 
gine and  hear  the  faint  rumble  of  the  cars,  and  when 
I  tried  to  move  off  the  track  I  found  I  was  tied  with 
a  hundred  ropes.  It  seemed  to  me  there  were  a  hun- 
dred devils  up  in  the  air,  and  each  one  had  hold  of  a 
rope  that  was  wound  around  my  body  in  such  a  way 
that  I  could  not  move.  The  cars  were  coming  closer 
and  closer,  faster  and  faster;  the  light  of  the  engine 
looked  like  one  horrid  eye  of  fire;  I  could  hear  the 
rattle  and  rush  of  a  thousand  wheels;  it  was  coming 
right  on  me  with  the  rapidity  of  lightning.  I  could 
feel  the  beating  of  my  heart,  and  my  hair  stood  up 
and  shook  and  shivered.  The  engine  ran  up  to  me 
and  stopped,  the  hot  smoke  and  steam  choking  and 
smothering  me.  The  devils  cursed  and  howled  be- 
cause the  cars  did  not  run  over  me ;  they  said  the 
next  time  there  would  come  sure  death ;  then  they 
opened  the  doors  of  the  engine,  and  threw  in  cats  and 
dogs,  men,  women,  and  children.  I  could  hear  them 
scream  as  the  hot  flames  wrapped  themselves  about 
them,  until  they  would  burst  open;  and  that  engine 


AUTOBIOGRAPHY  OF  LUTHER  BENSON.       165 

was  red-hot.  I  could  see  the  grin  of  skeleton  demons, 
as,  with  a  horrid  curse,  they  motioned  the  engine  to 
move  back;  and  back,  back  it  went,  until  I  could 
just  see  a  faint  light;  then,  at  the  wild,  cursing, 
screaming  command  of  my  tormentors,  I  could  hear 
the  cars  coming  again,  faster  and  faster,  closer  and 
closer,  and  that  engine  ran  at  me  just  that  way  all 
night.  It  seemed  just  as  real,  and  my  sufferings  were 
just  as  intense,  as  if  it  had  been  a  reality.  When 
morning  came  the  devils  left  me,  swearing  that  they 
would  come  back  at  night,  and  thus  I  was  tortured  all 
day  with  the  dread  of  what  was  coming  again  at  night. 
That  day,  as  I  was  walking,  hens  and  chickens  would 
turn  into  little  men  and  women;  they  were  dressed 
up  in  bloody  clothes;  they  would  surround  me,  and 
pick  my  body  full  of  holes;  then  they  would  pick  my 
eyes  out,  and  I  could  see  my  eyes  dropping  from 
their  bloody  bills. 

When  night  came  I  went  to  my  room.  I  could 
hear  voices  talking  in  all  parts  of  the  house.  They 
would  gather  about  me  and  whisper  and  talk  about 
some  way  in  which  they  would  kill  me;  then  the  win- 
dows would  be  full  of  cats,  and  I  could  feel  little  kif^ 
tens  in  my  pockets;  and  when  I  walked  I  would 
step  on  kittens,  and  they  would  mew,  and  the  old  cats 
would  howl  and  burst  through  the  windows,  and  claw 
roe  to  pieces.  Then  devils  would  take  live,  howling, 


166  FIFTEEN  YEARS  IN  HELL. 

squalling  cats,  and  pound  me  with  them  until  I  was 
surrounded  and  walled  in  with  dead  cats.  The  more 
I  suffered,  and  the  harder  I  tried  to  escape,  the  more 
intense  seemed  their  joy.  The  room  would  be  full 
of  every  loathsome  insect;  they  would  crawl,  fly,  and 
buzz  around  me,  stinging  me  in  the  face  and  eyes. 
Then  the  room  would  fill  with  rats  and  mice,  and 
they  would  run  all  over  me.  Then  ten  thousand 
devilish  forms  would  all  rush  at  me.  There  were 
human  forms  of  every  size  and  shape.  Some  of  them 
had  the  face  and  look  of  a  demon,  and  from  every 
part  of  the  room  their  eyes  glared  at  me;  others  had 
their  throats  gashed  to  the  very  spine,  while  every 
one  of  them  accused  me  of  being  the  cause  of  their 
misery.  Then  devils  and  men  would  rush  at  me  and 
pin  me  to  the  wall  of  my  room,  by  driving  sharp, 
red-hot  spikes  through  my  body.  I  could  see  and 
feel  the  blood  streaming  from  my  wounds  until  my 
clothes  were  covered  with  it.  Then  they  would  take 
red-hot  irons,  and  burn  and  scrape  my  flesh  from  my 
bones.  They  would  pull  and  tear  my  teeth  out,  and 
dash  them  in  my  face.  Then  they  would  take  sharp, 
crooked  knife  blades,  and  run  them  through  my 
body,  and  tear  me  to  pieces,  and  hold  up  before  my 
eyes  my  bleeding,  burned  and  quivering  flesh,  and  it 
would  turn  to  bloody,  hissing  snakes.  Then  I  looked 
and  could  see  my  coffin  and  dead  body.  Then  I  came 


AUTOBIOGRAPHY  OF  LUTHER  BENSON.       167 

back  to  life  again,  and  I  heard  voices  under  my  head 
cursing  ine,  and  saying  that  they  would  bury  me 
alive.  At  this  the  devils  seized  me,  and  I  could  feel 
myself  flying  through  the  air.  At  last  they  stopped, 
and  I  heard  a  heavy  door  open.  They  dragged  me 
into  what  they  told  me  was  a  vault,  and,  when  I  tried 
to  escape,  I  found  nothing  but  solid  walls.  The  floor 
was  stone,  and  slippery  and  slimy.  I  could  hear  rats 
and  mice  running  over  the  floor.  They  would  run 
up  my  sleeves  and  down  my  neck.  In  trying  to 
escape  from  them  I  struck  a  coffin ;  it  fell  on  the  hard 
stone  floor  and  burst  open;  then  the  room  lighted 
up,  and  the  skeleton  from  the  burst  coffin  stood  up 
before  me,  and  a  long,  slimy  snake  crawled  up  and 
wrapped  the  skeleton  to  the  very  neck ;  and  that  hor- 
rid thing  of  bones,  with  a  living  snake  coiled  all 
about  it,  walked  up  to  me  and  laid  its  bony  fingers 
on  my  face.  No  language  can  give  the  least  idea  of 
the  horrid  sights  and  sufferings  in  the  drunkard's 
madness. 


CHAPTER  XIII. 

Recovery — Trip  to  Maine  —  Lecturing  in  that  State  —  Dr.  Rey% 
nolds,  the  "Dare  to  do  right"  reformer — Return  to  Indian- 
apolis—  Lecturing  —  Newspaper  extracts  —  The  criticisms  of 
the  press  —  Private  letters  of  encouragement  —  Friends  dear  to 
memory  —  Sacred  names. 

After  recovering  from  the  debauch  just  described, 
which  I  did  in  the  course  of  two  or  three  days,  I  went 
East  to  the  State  of  Maine,  where  I  remained  about 
three  months,  lecturing  in  all  the  principal  cities,  and 
in  some  of  them  a  number  of  times.  In  Bangor,  es- 
pecially, I  was  warmly  welcomed,  and  I  spoke  there 
as  often  as  ten  times,  each  time  to  a  crowded  house. 
Dr.  Reynolds,  the  celebrated  "Dare  to  do  right" 
reformer,  was  at  that  time  a  resident  of  Bangor,  and 
I  had  the  honor  to  make  his  acquaintance.  While  in 
Bangor  I  made  my  headquarters  at  his  office,  and  was 
much  benefited  and  strengthened  by  coming  in  con- 
tact with  him.  Days  and  weeks  passed,  and  I  did 
not  taste  liquor,  although  at  times,  when  depressed 

(168) 


AUTOBIOGRAPHY  OF  LUTHER  BENSON.       169 

and  tired  from  over-work,  I  found  it  difficult  in  the 
extreme  to  resist  the  cravings  of  my  appetite. 

I  returned  to  Indianapolis  in  the  spring  of  1875. 
I  remained  in  Indiana,  lecturing  almost  daily,  or 
nightly,  until  autumn,  when  I  again  started  East  on 
a  lecturing  tour,  which  lasted  eight  months.  During 
this  time  I  averaged  one  lecture  per  day.  At  times, 
for  the  space  of  an  entire  week,  I  did  not  get  as  much 
sleep  as  I  needed  in  one  night,  and  the  work  I  did  in 
those  eight  months  was  enough  to  break  down  the 
strongest  and  healthiest  constitution.  I  spoke  in  all 
the  more  notable  cities  and  towns  of  Massachusetts, 
New  Hampshire,  and  Maine.  With  regard  to  my 
success,  I  will  let  the  Eastern  press  speak  for  me.  It 
is  not  from  any  motive  of  vanity  that  I  insert  the  fol- 
lowing notices  of  the  papers,  but  from  a  wish  to  es- 
tablish in  the  minds  of  my  readers  the  fact  that  my 
labor  was  earnest,  and  not  without  good  results. 
These  extracts  are  not  given  in  the  order  in  which 
they  appeared;  I  insert  them,  taken  at  random,  from 
hundreds  of  a  similar  character.  The  first  is  from 
the  Boston  Daily  Advertiser : 

"  Mr.  Luther  Benson,  of  Indiana,  delivered  a 
temperance  lecture  last  evening  in  Faneuil  Hall,  be- 
fore a  large  and  enthusiastic  audience.  *  *  * 

"  The  meeting  was  opened  with  prayer  by  the 
Rev.  Mr.  Cooke,  of  the  Hanover  Street  Bethel,  after 


170  FIFTEEN  YEARS  TN  HELL. 

which,  Mr.  E.  H.  Sheafe  introduced  the  lecturer. 
The  temperance  theme  is  so  old  and  long  discussed 
that  it  seemed  well-nigh  impossible  to  present  it? 
merits  in  a  new  and  attractive  way,  but  Mr.  Benson 
in  a  simple,  straightforward  manner,  in  language 
clothed  with  the  peculiar  western  freedom  of  speech, 
together  with  an  accent  of  marked  broadness,  held 
the  undivided  attention  of  his  audience  from  the  be- 
ginning of  his  lecture  to  the  close.  The  several 
stories  told  by  the  speaker  seemed  to  exactly  suit  the 
temper  of  his  hearers,  as  the  frequent  applause  testi- 
fied, and  altogether  it  was  probably  one  of  the  most 
satisfactory  temperance  lectures  ever  delivered  in  this 
city.  Mr.  Benson,  who  is  a  reformed  drunkard, 
describes  his  trials  and  struggles  in  overcoming  the 
evils  of  intemperance  in  a  very  impressive  manner, 
awakening  a  strong  interest  for  the  cause  which  he 
pleads. 

"  During  his  lecture  Mr.  Benson  paid  a  marked 
compliment  to  the  old  hall  in  which  he  was  speaking, 
and  the  liberty  of  speech  allowed  within  its  portals. 
Total  Abstinence  was  the  one  thing  needed  through- 
out the  land.  There  could  be  no  such  thing  as 
moderate  drinking.  Prohibition  should  be  enforced, 
and  great  results  would  necessarily  follow." 

From  the  Boston  Daily  Evening  Traveler  I  clip 
this  concerning  my  lecture  at  Chelsea : 


AUTOBIOGRAPHY  OF  LUTHER  BENSON.       \*l\ 

"  Hawthorn  Hall  was  crowded  to  the  very  gallery 
last  evening  with  an  audience  assembled  to  listen  to 
a  lecture  on  temperance  by  Luther  Benson,  Esq.,  of 
Indiana.  Mr.  Benson  is  one  of  the  most  powerful 
and  eloquent  orators  that  have  ever  stood  before  an 
audience.  For  one  hour  and  a  half  he  held  his  au- 
dience by  a  spell.  He  painted  one  beautiful  picture 
after  another,  and  each  in  the  very  gems  of  the 
English  language.  He  was  many  times  interrupted 
by  loud  bursts  of  applause.  Words  drop  from  his 
lips  in  strains  of  such  impassioned  eloquence  that 
they  go  directly  to  the  hearts  of  the  audience,  and 
his  actions  are  so  well  suited  to  his  words  that  you 
can  not  remember  a  gesture.  You  try  in  vain  to 
recall  the  inflection  of  the  voice  that  moved  you  to 
smiles  or  tears,  at  the  speaker's  will.  Mr.  Benson  is 
a  young  man  and  has  only  been  in  the  lecture  field  a 
little  over  one  year;  yet  at  one  leap  he  has  taken  the 
very  front  rank,  and  is  already  measuring  strength 
with  the  oldest  and  ablest  lecturers  in  the  country." 

The  next  is  from  the  Boston  Daily  Herald  : 

» 

"TEMPERANCE  AT  FANEUIL  HALL. 

"  The  old  cradle  of  liberty  was  filled  last  evening 
by  a  large  and  appreciative  audience,  assembled  to 
hear  Luther  Benson,  a  well-known  temperance  advo- 
cate from  Indiana.  Mr.  E.  H.  Sheafe,  under  whose 


172  FIFTEEN  YEARS  IN  HELL. 

auspices  the  lecture  was  held,  presided,  and  the  plat- 
form was  occupied  by  the  Rev.  Mr.  Cook,  who  of- 
fered prayer,  and  by  Messrs.  Timothy  Bigelow,  Esq., 
F.  S.  Harding,  Charles  West,  John  Tobias,  S.  C. 
Knight,  and  other  well-known  temperance  workers 
in  this  city.  Mr.  Benson  is  a  reformed  man,  and, 
speaking  as  he  did  from  a  terrible  experience,  he 
made  an  excellent  impression,  and  proved  himself  an 
orator  of  tact,  talent  and  ability.  A  number  of  his 
passages  were  marked  with  true  eloquence  and  pathos, 
and  for  an  hour  and  a  quarter  he  held  the  closest  at- 
tention  of  his  large  audience  in  a  manner  that  could 
only  be  done  by  those  who  are  earnest  in  the  cause, 
and  appeal  directly  to  their  hearers." 

From  the  Dover  (N.  H.)  Democrat,  this : 
"Luther  Benson,  Esq.,  spoke  to  the  largest  audi- 
ence ever  gathered  in  the  City  Hall,  last  night.  Not- 
withstanding the  snow,  more  than  fourteen  hundred 
people  crowded  themselves  in  the  hall,  while  hun- 
dreds went  away  for  want  of  even  standing-room. 
He  has  created  a  perfect  storm  of  enthusiasm  for  him- 
self in  the  cause  he  so  earnestly  and  eloquently  advo- 
cates. Last  night  was  Mr.  Benson's  fourth  speech  in 
this  city,  each  one  delivered  without  notes  or  manu- 
script, and  with  no  repetition.  He  goes  from  here  to 
Great  Falls  and  Berwick.  Next  Sunday  he  returns 
to  this  city,  and  speaks  here  for  the  last  time  in  City 


AUTOBIOGRAPHY  OF  LUTHER  BENSON.       173 

Hall  at  half  past  seven  o'clock.  There  never  has 
been  a  lecturer  among  us  that  could  repeatedly  draw 
increased  audiences,  and  certainly  no  man  —  not  even 
Gough  —  ever  so  stirred  all  classes  of  our  people  on 
the  subject  of  temperance  as  has  Benson.  The  re- 
ceipts at  the  door  last  evening  were  about  one  hun- 
dred and  forty  dollars.  A  number  who  had  pur- 
chased tickets  previous  to  the  lecture  were  unable  to 
get  in  the  hall." 

Agd  this  from  the  Pittsbtirg  (Pa.)  Gazette: 

"  Luther  Benson,  Esq.,  of  Indiana,  has  just  closed 
one  of  the  most  powerful  temperance  lectures  ever 
delivered  here.  The  house  was  one  solid  mass  of 
people,  with  not  one  spare  inch  of  standing-room. 
For  nearly  two  hours  he  held  the  audience  as  by 
magic.  At  the  close  a  large  number  signed  the  pledge, 
some  of  them  the  hardest  drinkers  here.  The  people 
are  so  delighted  with  his  good  work  that  they  have 
secured  him  for  another  lecture  Wednesday  evening." 

The  next  extract  is  from  the  Manchester  (N.  H.) 
Press : 

"Smyth's  Hall  was  completely  filled,  seats  and 
standing  room,  at  two  o'clock  Sunday  afternoon,  with 
an  audience  which  came  to  hear  Luther  Benson.  The 
officers  of  the  Reform  Club,  clergymen  and  reformed 
drunkards  occupied  seats  upon  the  platform.  Mr. 
Benson  is  a  native  of  Indiana,  and  says  he  has  been  a 


174  FIFTEEN   YEARS  IN  HELL. 

drunkard  from  six  years  of  age.  He  was  within 
three  months  of  graduation  from  college  when  he  was 
expelled  for  drunkenness.  Then  he  studied  for  a 
lawyer,  and  was  admitted  to  practice,  being  drunk 
while  studying,  and  drunk  while  engaged  in  a  case. 
'At  length  he  reduced  himself  to  poverty,  pawning  al! 
he  had  for  drink.  At  length  he  started  to  reform, 
and  though  he  had  once  fallen,  he  was  determined  tc 
persevere.  Since  his  reformation  two  years  ago  he 
had  been  giving  temperance  lectures.  He  is  a  yjoung 
man,  a  powerful,  swinging  sort  of  speaker,  with  a  good 
command  of  language,  original,  with  peculiar  intona- 
tion, pronunciation  and  idioms,  sometimes  rough,  but 
eminently  popular  with  his  audiences.  He  spoke  for 
an  hour  and  a  half  steadily,  wiping  the  perspiration 
from  his  face  at  intervals,  taking  up  the  greater  part 
of  his  address  with  his  personal  experience.  He  said 
he  had  had  delirium  tremens  several  times,  once  for 
fifteen  days,  and  gave  an  exceedingly  minute  and 
graphic  description  of  his  torments.  A  number  of 
men  signed  the  pledge  at  the  close  of  the  meeting. 
Among  them  was  one  man,  who  sat  in  frout  of  the 
audience  and  kept  drinking  from  a  bottle  he  had. 
evidently  in  a  spirit  of  bravado,  but  at  the  conclusion 
of  the  address  he  signed  the  pledge,  crying  like  q 
child." 


AUTOBIOGRAPHY  OF  LUTHER  BENSON.       175 

From  the  Saltsburg  Press,  of.  Pennsylvania,  I 
copy  the  following : 

"On  Monday  evening,  29th  inst.,  the  people  of  our 
staid  and  quiet  little  town  had  their  dormant  spirits 
stirred  to  their  inmost  depths,  by  an  eloquent  and 
thrilling  lecture  delivered  in  the  Presbyterian  church 
by  Luther  Benson,  Esq.,  a  native  of  Indianapolis, 
Indiana,  who  chose  for  his  topic  "  Total  Abstinence." 
He  opened  his  lecture  by  delineating  in  the  most 
touching  and  beautiful  language  the  almost  heavenly 
happiness  resulting  in  a  total  abstinence  from  all  in- 
toxicating beverages,  and  by  his  well-aimed  contrasts 
demonstrated  that,  in  the  use  of  those  beverages, 
even  in  a  temperate  degree,  there  was  but  one 
result  —  drunkenness  and  eternal  death.  He  was  no 
advocate  of  temperance ;  that  is,  the  temperate  use 
of  anything  hurtful.  Did  not  believe  that  anything 
vicious  could  be  tampered  with,  without  harm  com- 
ing from  it.  He  argued  to  a  final  and  satisfactory 
conclusion,  that  in  the  use  of  alcoholic  beverages 
there  could  be  no  such  thing  as  temperance  ;  that 
the  man  who  took  a  drink  now  and  then  would  make 
it  convenient  to  take  more  drinks  now  than  he  would 
then,  and  in  the  end  would  as  surely  fill  a  drunkard's 
grave  as  the  man  who  persistently  abused  the  bever- 
age in  its  use.  His  description  of  the  two  paths 
through  life  was  a  most  beautiful  word  picture. 


176  FIFTEEN  YEARS  IN  HELL.     • 

That  of  sobriety  leading  through  bright  green  fields, 
over  flowery  plains,  by  pleasant  rivulets,  where  all 
was  peace  and  harmony,  and  over  which  the  spirit  of 
heaven  itself  seemed  to  brood  and  watch ;  and  that 
of  drunkenness,  in  which  all  the  miseries  and  tor- 
tures of  the  imaginary  hell  were  concentrated  in  a 
living  death ;  of  blighted  hopes,  of  wasted  life,  of 
ruined  homes,  of  broken  hearts,  of  a  conscience 
goaded  to  an  insanity  —  to  a  madness  —  to  fairly 
wallow  in  the  Lethean  draft,  that  memory  might  be 
robbed  of  its  poignant  goadings ;  that  the  poor, 
helpless,  and  degraded  victim  might  escape  its  hor- 
rors in  oblivion. 

"  He  had  been  a  victim  in  the  toils  of  the  monster 
for  fifteen  years;  had  endured  all  the  horrors  it  in- 
flicted upon  its  votaries  during  that  time,  and  made 
an  eloquent  appeal  to  the  young  men  present  to  choose 
the  right  way  and  walk  therein.  He  pictured  the  in- 
evitable result  in  new  and  convincing  arguments 
holding  up  his  own  almost  hopeless  case  as  a  warn 
ing.  His  description  of  delirium  tremens,  while  i' 
was  frightful,  was  not  overdrawn.  He  told  the 
simple  truth,  as  any  one  who  has  passed  through  the 
horrible  ordeal  can  testify. 

"We  have  not  space  to  follow  Mr.  Benson  through 
his  lecture,  which  was  truly  original  in  language, 
style  and  delivery.  He  is  a  lawyer  by  profession, 


AUTOBIOGRAPHY  OF  LUTHER  BENSON.       177 

about  twenty-eight  years,  and  is  wonderfully 
gifted  with  a  pleasing  way,  rapidly  flowing  and  elo- 
quent language,  that  carries  to  the  audience  the  con- 
viction that  he  is  in  earnest  in  the  work  of  total  absti- 
nence; that  in  the  effort  to  reclaim  himself  he  will 
leave  nothing  undone  to  save  those  who  may  have 
started  out  in  life  impressed  with  the  belief  that  thero 
is  pleasure  and  enjoyment  under  the  influence  of  in- 
toxication. That  he  will  accomplish  good  there  is  no 
doubt.  He  goes  into  the  work  under  the  influence 
of  the  Holy  Spirit;  maintaining  that  the  grace  of 
God  alone  can  work  a  thorough  reformation.  We 
have  heard  Gough  lecture,  but  maintain  that  the  elo- 
quent, forcible,  humorous,  pathetic,  and  convincing 
language  of  Mr.  Benson  is  of  a  better  and  higher 
order,  and  will  prove  more  effectual  in  touching  the 
hearts  of  those  who  stand  upon  the  verge  of  ruin. 

"Mr.  Benson  will  lecture  this  (Tuesday)  evening, 
in  the  Presbyterian  church.  Doors  open  at  6:30; 
lecture  commencing  at  7 : 30.  The  lecture  this  even- 
ing will  be  on  a  different  subject,  and  no  part  of  the 
lecture  of  last  evening  will  be  repeated. 

"As  a  result  of  the  lecture  Monday  evening,  one 
hundred  and  sixty-two  persons  signed  the  pledge." 

With  reference  to  the  lecture  delivered  at  Faneuil 
12 


'• 
178  FIFTEEN  YEARS  IN  HELL. 

Hall,  the  Boston  Temperance  Album  gives  the  suc- 
ceeding synopsis : 

"  Mr.  Benson,  on  being  introduced,  paid  the  follow- 
ing eloquent  tribute  to  the  Hall : 

"  Ladies  and  gentlemen  :  It  is  with  emotions  such 
as  I  have  never  experienced  upon  any  former  occa- 
sion, that  I  stand  before  you  to-night  in  this,  the 
birthplace  of  American  liberty.  It  was  in  this  hall 
that  was  first  inaugurated  the  grand  march  of  revolu- 
tion and  liberty  that  has  gilded  the  page  of  the  his- 
tory of  our  time  with  the  most  glorious  achievements 
of  the  patriot  that  the  world  has  ever  had  to  admire. 
It  was  here  that  was  inaugurated  those  immortal  prin- 
ciples that  caused  revolution  to  rise  in  fire,  and  go 
down  in  freedom,  amid  the  ruins  and  relics  of  oppres- 
sion. It  was  here  that  the  beacon  of  liberty  first 
blazed,  and  the  rainbow  of  freedom  rose  on  the  cloud 
of  war;  and  as  a  result  of  the  patriotism  and  heroism 
of  our  forefathers,  liberty  has  erected  her  altars  here 
in  the  very  garden  of  the  globe,  and  the  genius  of  the 
earth  worship  at  her  feet.  And  here  in  this  garden 
of  the  West,  here  in  this  land  of  aspiring  hope,  where 
innocence  is  equity,  and  talent  is  triumph,  the  exile 
from  every  land  finds  a  home  where  his  youth  may  be 
crowned  with  happiness,  and  the  sun  of  life's  evening 
go  down  with  the  unmolested  hope  of  a  glorious  im- 
mortality. Who  is  not  proud  of  being  an  American 


AUTOBIOGRAPHY  OF  LUTHER  BENSON.       179 

citizen,  and  walking  erect  and  secure  under  the  Stars 
and  Stripes? 

"If  there  be  a  place  on  earth  where  the  human 
mind,  unfettered  by  tyrannical  institutions,  may  rise 
to  the  summit  of  intellectual  grandeur,  it  is  here.  If 
there  be  a  country  where  the  human  heart,  in  public 
and  in  private,  may  burst  forth  in  unrestrained  adu- 
lation to  the  God  that  made  it,  it  is  here,  where. the 
immortal  heroes  and  patriots  of  more  than  one  hun- 
dred, years  ago  succeeded  in  establishing  these  United 
States,  as  the  '  land  of  the  free  and  the  home  of  the 
brave.'  Here,  then,  human  excellence  must  attain  to 
the  summit  of  its  glory.  Mind  constitutes  the  ma- 
jesty of  man,  virtue  his  true  nobility.  The  tide  of 
improvement  which  is  now  flowing  like  another  Ni- 
agara through  the  land,  is  destined  to  flow  on  down 
to  the  latest  posterity,  and  it  will  bear  on  its  mighty 
bosom  our  virtues,  or  our  vices,  our  glory,  or  our 
shame,  or  whatever  else  we  may  transmit  as  an  inher- 
itance. Thus  it  depends  upon  ourselves  whether  the 
moth  of  immortality  and  the  vampire  of  luxury  shall 
prove  the  overthrow  of  this  country,  or  whether 
knowledge  and  virtue,  like  pillars,  shall  support  her 
against  the  whirlwinds  of  war,  ambition,  corruption, 
and  the  remorseless  tooth  of  time.  And  while  assem- 
bled here  to-night,  in  this,  the  very  cradle  of  liberty, 
let  us  not  forget  that  there  are  evils  to  be  shunned 


180  FIFTEEN    YEARS  IN  HELL. 

and  avoided  by  us  as  individuals  and  as  a  common 
people. 

"  It  is  about  one  of  these  evils  that  is  threatening 
the  stability,  prosperity,  and  happiness  of  this  whole 
country  that  I  would  talk  to  you  to-night.  Let  us 
approach  near  to  each  other  and  talk,  if  possible,  soul 
to  soul,  and  heart  to  heart.  I  would  talk  to  you  to- 
night of  liberty,  that  liberty  that  frees  us,  body,  soul, 
and  spirit,  from  the  slavery  of  the  intoxicating  bowl  ; 
a  slavery  more  soul-wearing  and  life-destroying  than 
any  Egyptian  bondage.  Why,  it  is  but  a  few  years 
ago  that  this  whole  continent  rocked  to  its  very  cen- 
ter on  the  question  as  to  whether  human  slavery 
should  endure  upon  its  soil !  That  was  but  the 
slavery  of  the  body,  a  slavery  for  this  life  ;  and  that 
was  bad  enough,  but  the  slavery  about  which  I  talk 
to  you  is  a  slavery  not  only  of  the  body,  but  of  the 
soul,  and  of  the  spirit ;  a  slavery  not  only  for  this 
life,  but  a  slavery  that  goes  beyond  the  gates  of  the 
tomb,  and  reaches  out  into  an  infinite  eternity.  The 
slavery  of  intoxication,  unlike  human  slavery,  is  con- 
fined to  no  particular  section,  climate,  or  society  ;  for 
i  wars  on  all  mankind.  It  has  for  its  home  this 
whole  world.  It  has  the  flesh  for  its  mother  and  the 
devil  for  its  father.  It  stands  out  a  headless,  heart- 
less, eyeless,  earless,  soulless  monster  of  gigantic  and 
fabulous  proportions. 


AUTOBIOGRAPHY  OF  LUTHER  BENS3N.       Jgl 

As  a  very  few  persons  have  said  my  labors  in  the 
cause  of  Temperance  were  not,  and  are  not,  product- 
ive of  good,  I  will  give  just  very  short  extracts  from 
a  number  of  letters  which  I  have  received  from  per- 
sons who  ought  to  know  : 

FRANKFORT,  IND.,  October  18,  1875. 

LUTHER  BENSON,  ESQ. — My  Dear  Sir — Yours  of  the  I4th  is  be- 
fore me  for  answer,  and,  although  very  busily  engaged  in  court,  I 
can  not  refrain  from  answering  at  some  length.  First,  I  will  say, 
"  I  have  kept  the  faith."  Though  "  the  fight "  is  not  yet  over,  my 
emancipation  from  the  terrible  thralldom  is  measurably  complete. 
Occasional  twinges  of  appetite  yet  admonish  me  to  maintain  my 
vigilance.  It  was  while  struggling  with  one  of  these  that  your  let- 
ter came  like  a  messenger  from  heaven  to  encourage  and  strengthen 
me.  Not  a  day  passes  but  that  I  think  of  you,  and  to  your  wise 
counsel  and  affectionate  admonition,  under  Providence,  I  owe  my 
beginning  and  continuance  in  this  well-doing.  *  *  *  May  the 
Lord  spare  you  to  "  open  the  lips  of  truth  "  to  those  who,  like  my- 
self, will  perish  without  a  revelation  of  their  danger.  With  high 
esteem  and  sincere  affection,  I  am,  ever  your  friend, 


SALEM,  MASS.,  October  29,  187^ 

BRO.  BENSON — I  write  you  these  few  lines  to  cheer  your  heart, 
and  assure  you  that  your  labor  in  Salem  has  not  been  in  vain  in 
the  Lord's  cause  (the  Temperance  Reform).  Our  friend  and  bro- 
ther,   ,  from  Beverly,  was  over  at  our  meeting  on  Wednesday 

evening  last,  and  it  would  do  your  heart  good  to  see  the  change  in 
him.  He  will  never  forget  Luther  Benson,  for  it  wag  your  first 
in  Salem  that  saved  him.  


182  FIFTEEN  YEARS  IN  HELL. 

I  desire  now  to  come  down  to  the  very  near  pres- 
ent, as  some  claim  that  my  late  afflictions  and  sore  mis- 
fortunes have  extinguished  my  capacity  for  good  : 

MEMPHIS,  Mo.,  Feb.  14,  1878. 

DEAR  BENSON — I  know  of  my  personal  knowledge  that  you  did 
a  grand  work  here.  Bro.  B.,  you  remember  my  pointing  out  to 

you  a  Dr.  ,  and  telling  you  what  a  persecutor  of  churches  he 

was,  and  how  hard  he  drank.  He  in  two  nights  after  you  were 
here  signed  the  pledge,  and  in  telling  his  experience,  said  that  yon 
saved  him — that  no  other  person  had  ever  been  able  to  impress  hire 
as  you  did.  Truly, 


-,  Jan.  i,  1878. 


MY  VERY  DEAR  FRIEND — I  wish  I  could  be  with  you  and  knee; 
with  you  as  in  the  past,  and  hear  your  faith  in  God.  Here  is  my 
hand  forever.  You  have  done  more  for  me  than  all  the  shepherd* 
on  the  bleak  hillsides  of  this  black  world.  * 

Lovingly,  


TERRE  HAUTE,  IND.,  Feb.  22,  1878. 

•EAR  BENSON — You  have  done  more  for  me  than  all  the  men  and 
women  on  earth.  One  year  ago  I  iftard  you  lecture  on  Temperance 
in  Lafayette.  Then  I  was  a  poor  outcast  drunkard  ;  you  saved  me. 
I  am  now  a  sober  man  and  a  Christian.  

I  could  furnish  thousands  of  such  testimonials  as 
the  above,  but  deem  these  sufficient  to  convince  any 
honest  person  that  my  toil  is  not  in  vain. 


AUTOBIOGRAPHY    OF  LUTHER  BENSON. 

From  one  of  the  journals  of  my  native  State  I  clip 
the  concluding  extract: 

"  Luther  Benson,  the  gifted  inebriate  orator,  is  still 
struggling  against  the  demon  of  strong  drink.  He 
spoke  at  Jeffersonville  recently/and  in  the  middle  of 
his  discourse  became  so  chagrined  and  disheartened 
at  his  repeated  failures  at  reform,  that  he  took  his 
seat  and  burst  into  a  flood  of  tears.  He  has  since 
connected  himself  with  the  church,  and  has  professed 
religion.  »May  his  new  resolves  and  associations 
strengthen  him  in  the  line  of  duty.  But,  like  the 
man  among  the  tombs,  the  demons  of  appetite  have 
taken  full  possession  of  his  soul,  and  riot  in  every 
vein  and  fiber  of  his  being.  It  is  a  fearful  thraldom 
to  be  encompassed  with  the  wild  hallucinations  be- 
gotten through  a  life  of  dissipation  and  debauchery. 
The  strongest  resolves  at  reform  are  broken  as  ropes 
of  sand.  All  the  moral  faculties  are  made  tributary 
to  the  one  ruling  passion  —  drink,  drink,  drink!  But 
still  his  repeated  resolves  and  heroic  efforts  betoken  a 
greatness  of  soul  rarely  witnessed.  May  he  yet  live 
to  see  the  devils  that  so  sorely  beset  him  running  furi- 
ously down  a  steep  place  into  the  sea,  and  sink  for- 
ever from  his  annoyance.  But  when  they  do  come 
out  of  the  man,  instead  of  entering  a  herd  of  heedless 
swine  for  their  coursers  to  the  deep,  may  they  ride, 
V  ooted  and  spurred,  every  saloon-keeper  who  has  con- 


184  FIFTEEN   YEARS  IN  HELL. 

tributed  to  make  Luther  Benson  what  he  is,  to  the 
very  verge  of  despair,  and  to  the  brink  of  hell's 
yawning  abyss." 

I  might  give  many  more  well  written  and  flattering 
criticisms,  but  from  the  foregoing  the  reader  can  de- 
termine in  what  estimation  to  hold  my  labor.  For 
myself  I  am  not  solicitous  for  anything  beyond 
escape  from-  my  thraldom,  and  that  peace  which  is 
the  sure  accompaniment  of  a  temperate  Christian  life. 
If  I  thought  that  my  readers  were  of  the  opinion 
held  by  some  of  my  enemies  that  my  lectures  have 
not  been  productive  of  good,  I  could  quote  from 
numberless  private  letters  received  from  all  parts  9f 
the  land,  in  which  I  am  assured  of  the  good  results 
which  have  crowned  my  humble  efforts  —  in  which  7 
am  told  of  very  many  instances  where  my  words  of 
entreaty  and  self-humiliation  have  been  the  means 
of  bringing  back  from  the  darkness  and  death  of  in- 
temperance, fathers,  husbands,  sons,  and  brothers 
who  were  on  the  road  to  destruction.  I  have  letters 
from  the  wives,  mothers,  and  sisters  of  these  men, 
invoking  the  blessings  of  heaven  upon  me  for  the 
peace  and  happiness  thus  restored  to  them.  I  have 
letters  from  little  children  thanking  me  also  for  giv- 
ing them  back  their  fathers,  and  I  thank  God  from 
the  depths  of  my  torn  and  desolate  heart  that  I  have 
been  the  humble  instrument  of  good  in  these 


AUTOBIOGRAPHY  OF  LUTHER  BENSON.       185 

In  my  darkest  hours,  when  I  feel  that  all  is  lost, 
when  hope  seems  to  soar  away  from  me  to  the  far-off 
heavens  from  which  she  first  descended  to  this  world, 
these  letters,  which  I  often  read,  and  over  which  I 
have  so  often  wept  grateful  tears,  give  me  strength 
and  courage  to  face  the  struggle  before  me.  My 
most  earnest  prayer  to  God  has  been  that  I  may  do 
some  good  to  compensate  in  some  measure  for  the 
talent  which  he  gave  me,  and  which  I  have  so  sadly 
wasted.  I  have  avoided  mentioning  the  names  of 
the  many  dear  friends  who  have  not  forsaken  me  in 
this  last  extremity.  As  I  write,  name  after  name, 
dear  to  memory,  crowds  into  my  mind.  I  can  hardly 
refrain  from  giving  them  a  place  on  these  pages,  but 
to  mention  a  few  would  be  manifestly  unjust  to  the 
remainder,  and  it  is  out  of  my  power  to  print  all  of 
them  in  the  space  which  could  be  afforded  in  this 
small  book.  But  I  wish  to  assure  every  man  and 
woman  who  has  ever  given  me  a  kind  word  of  en- 
couragement, or  even  a  kind  look,  that  they  are  not 
and  never  will  be  forgotten.  Whatever  my  future 
fate  may  be,  you  did  your  duty,  and  God  will  bless 
you.  Your  names  are  all  sacred  to  me. 


CHAPTER  XIV. 

At  home  again  —  Overwork  —  Shattered  nerves  —  Downward  tc 
hell — Conceive  the  idea  of  traveling  with  some  one — Leave  Indi- 
anapolis on  a  third  tour  east  in  company  with  Gen.  Macauley — 
Separate  from  him  at  Buffalo — I  go  on  to  New  York  alone — 
Trading  clothes  for  whisky — Delirious  wanderings — Jersey  City 
— In  the  calaboose — Deathly  sick — An  insane  neighbor — Another 
— In  court  —  "John  Dalton  "  —  "Here!  your  honor  " — Dis- 
charged— Boston — Drunk — At  the  residence  of  Junius  Brutus 
Booth — Lecturing  again — Home — Converted — Go  to  Boston — 
Attend  the  Moody  and  Sankey  meetings — Get  drunk — Home 
once  more — Committed  to  the  asylum — Reflections — The  shadow 
which  whispered — "  Go  away  !  " 

I  returned  home  from  this  second  tour  in  the  East- 
ern States  in  April,  1876,  with  shattered  nerves  and 
weary  brain,  but  instead  of  resting,  I  went  on  lectur- 
ing until  my  overworked  mind  and  body  could  no 
longer  hold  out,  and  then  it  was,  after  nearly  two 
years  of  sobriety,  that  I  once  more  fell.  For  weeks 
before  this  disaster  overtook  me,  I  was  actually  an 
irresponsible  maniac.  My  pulse  was  never  lower 
than  one  hundred  to  the  minute,  and  much  of  the 
(186) 


AUTOBIOGRAPHY  OF  LUTHER  BENSON.       187 

time  it  ran  up  to  one  hundred  and  twenty.  I  was  so 
weak  that  with  all  ray  energy  aroused  I  could  only 
move  about  with  feeble  steps,  and  a  constant  anxiety 
and  longing  for  something  to  drink  preyed  upon  me. 
I  was  not  content  to  remain  in  one  place,  but  wanted 
to  be  going  somewhere  all  the  time,  I  cared  not 
where.  In  this  condition  I  dragged  along  my  exist- 
ence for  weeks,  until  at  last,  driven  to  a  frenzy, 
reason  fled,  and  I  plunged  headlong  into  the  horrors 
of  another  debauch.  My  downward  course  appeared 
to  be  accelerated  by  the  very  struggles  which  I  had 
made  to  rise  during  the  past  two  years.  The  mo- 
ment I  recovered  from  one  horrible  spell  another 
more  fierce  seized  me  and  plunged  me  into  the  very 
depths  of  hell.  I  now  conceived  the  idea  of  getting 
some  one  to  travel  with  me,  thinking  that  by  this 
means  I  could  perhaps  throw  oft'  the  morbid  gloom 
and  melancholy  which  hung  over  me.  But  again 
I  did  the  very  thing  I  should  not  have  done — I  lec- 
tured. 

On  the  30th  of  September,  1876,  I  started  from 
Indianapolis,  in  company  with  Gen,  Dan.  Macauley, 
on  a  third  lecturing  tour  East.  I  was  drunk  when 
we  started,  and  remained  in  that  accursed  state  dur- 
ing the  journey.  At  Buffalo,  New  York,  we  got 
separated,  thence  I  went  to  New  York  city  alone, 
where  I  continued  drinking  until  I  had  no  money. 


188  FIFTEEN  YEARS  IN  HELL. 

I  then  commenced  to  pawn  my  clothes  —  first,  my 
vest;  second,  a  pair  of  new  boots,  worth  fourteen  dol- 
lars; I  got  a  quart  of  whisky,  an  old  and  worn-out 
pair  of  siloes^  and  ten  cents  in  money,  for  my  boots. 
I  drank  up  the  whisky,  and  traded  off  my  overcoat. 
It  was  worth  sixty  dollars.  I  realized  about  five 
cents  on  the  dollar,  and  all  the  horrors  of  all  hells 
ever  heard  of,  for  I  was  attacked  with  the  delirium 
tremens.  By  some  means,  of  which  I  am  entirely 
ignorant,  I  got  across  the  river,  into  Jersey  City,  and 
was  there  arrested  and  lodged  in  the  calaboose,  in 
which  I  remained  from  Saturday  until  the  following 
Monday.  I  suffered  more  in  the  forty-eight  hours 
embraced  in  that  time  than  I  ever  before  or  since  suf- 
fered in  the  same  length  of  time.  I  do  not  know  the 
hour,  but  it  was  getting  dark  on  that  Saturday  even- 
ing, when  I  got  deathly  sick,  and  commenced  vomit- 
ing. I  continued  vomiting  until  Monday.  Nothing 
that  I  swallowed  would  remain  on  my  stomach. 
About  eight  o'clock  Saturday  evening  the  authorities, 
the  police  officers,  put  a  large  number  of  men  and 
boys,  who  were  arrested  for  being  drunk,  in  the  room 
in  which  I  was  confined.  By  midnight  there  were 
fourteen  of  us  in  a  small,  poorly-ventilated,  dirty 
room.  Planks  extended  around  the  room  on  three 
sides,  and  on  these  those  who  could  get  a  place  lay 
down.  Among  the  number  of  "drunks"  imprisoned 


AUTOBIOGRAPHY  OF  LUTHER  BENSON       189 

with  me  were  some  of  the  worst  and  largest  roughs  of 
Jersey  City,  and  these  inhuman  wretches,  in  the  ab- 
sence of  the  police,  threatened  to  take  my  life  if  I  vom- 
ited again.  In  the  room  adjoining  ours  a  madman 
was  confined,  and  I  don't  think  he  ceased  kicking  and 
screaming  a  moment  from  Saturday  night  until  Mon- 
day. In  the  room  just  across  the  narrow  hall,  front- 
ing ours,  was  an  insane  woman,  who  swore  she  had 
two  souls,  one  of  which  was  in  hell !  She,  too,  kept  up 
an  incessant,  piteous  wailing,  begging  some  one,  ever 
and  anon,  with  piercing  screams,  to  bring  back  her  lost 
soul!  Indianapolis  is  more  civilized  than  Jersey  City 
in  respect  to  her  prisons,  but  not  with  respect  to  her 
police.  And  I  am  pretty  sure  that,  as  managed  by  its 
present  superintendent,  the  unfortunate  insane  are  in 
no  other  State  cared  for  as  they  are  in  the  Indiana 
asylum,  and  in  no  other  State  is  the  appropriation  for 
running  such  a  noble  institution  so  beggarly  as  in 
ours.  I  have  visited  other  asylums,  and  am  now  an 
inmate  of  this,  and  I  know  whereof  I  speak. 

The  reader  may  have  a  faint  idea  of  my  sufferings 
while  in  the  Jersey  City  calaboose  when  I  tell  him 
that  the  least  noise  pierced  my  brain  like  a  knife.  I 
can  in  fancy  and  in  my  dreams  hear  the  wild  screams 
of  that  woman  yet.  On  Monday  morning  we  were 
marched  together  to  a  room,  and  I  saw  that  there  were 
about  fifty  persons  all  told  under  arrest.  Among  the 


190  FIFTEEN  YEARS  IN  HELL. 

number  were  many  women,  and  I  write  with  sorrow 
that  their  language  was  more  profane  and  indecent 
than  that  of  the  men.  J  stood  as  in  a  nightmare  and 
heard  the  judge  say  from  time  to  time  —  "Five  dol- 
jars"— "Ten  dollars"  — "  Ten  days"— "Fifteen 
days"  —  and  so  on.  I  was  so  weak  that  I  found  it 
almost  out  of  my  power  to  stand  up,  and  as  the 
various  sentences  were  pronounced  my  heart  gave  a 
quick  throb  of  agony.  I  felt  that  a  sentence  of  ten 
days  would  kill  me.  At  this  moment  "  John  Dalton  " 
was  called..  I  answered  "  Here,  your  Honor !"  for 
Dalton  was  the  name  I  had  assumed.  My  offense 
was  read  —  and  the  officer  who  arrested  me  volun- 
teered the  statement  that  I  was  not  disorderly,  and 
that  I  had  not  been  creating  any  disturbance.  I  felt 
called  upon  to  plead  my  own  case  before  the  judge, 
and  without  waiting  for  his  permission  I  began  to 
speak.  It  was  life  or  death  with  me,  and  for  ten 
minutes  I  spoke  as  I  never  spoke  before  and  have 
never  spoken  since.  I  pierced  through  his  judicial 
armor  and  touched  his  pity,  else  the  fear  of  being 
talked  to  death  influenced  him,  to  discharge  me  with 
ihe  generous  advice  to  leave  the  city.  Either  way  I 
was  free,  and  was  not  long  in  getting  across  the  river 
into  New  York,  where  I  succeeded  in  finding  Gen- 
eral Macauley  who  saw  that  my  toilet  was  once  more 
arranged  in  a  respectable  manner.  That  night  we 


A UTOBIO GRAPHY  OF  L UTHER  BENSON.       \§\ 

started  for  Boston,  and  arrived  there  on  Tuesday 
morning.  I  got  drunk  immediately  and  remained 
drunk  until  Saturday,  on  which  memorable  day  I 
went  in  company  with  the  General  to  Junius  Brutus 
Booth's  residence,  at  Manchester,  Mass.,  where  I 
staid,  well  provided  for,  until  I  got  sober.  I  then 
began  to  fill  my  engagements,  and  for  six  weeks  lec- 
tured almost  every  day  and  night  I  again  broke 
down  and  came  home.  I  finally  got  sober  once  more 
and,  did  not  drink  anything  until  in  January  last,  when 
I  again  fell.  I  went  to  Jeffersonville  to  lecture,  and 
while  there  became  converted.  Had  i  then  ceased  to 
work  and  given  my  worn-out  body  and  mind  a  much 
needed  rest,  I  would  have  to-day  been  standing  up  be- 
fore the  world  a  free  and  happy  man.  But  my  desire 
to  see  and  tell  every  one  of  the  new  joy  which  I  had 
ftmnd  controlled  me,  and  for  six  weeks  I  spoke  every 
day,  and  often  twice  a  day.  I  started  east  again  and 
went  to  Boston.  I  attended  the  Moody  and  Sankey 
meetings,  but  was  troubled  with  I  know  not  what. 
All  the  time  an  unnatural  feeling  seemed  to  have 
possession  of  me. 

One  afternoon,  just  after  getting  off  my  knees  from 
prayer,  a  strange  spell  came  over  me  and  before  I  could 
realize  what  I  was  doing,  the  devil  hurried  me  into 
a  saloon,  where  I  began  to  drink  recklessly,  and  knew 
nothing  more  for  two  or  three  days.  Then  I  awoke, 


192  FIFTEEN  YEARS  IN  HELL. 

I  knew  not  where.  Some  of  my  friends  found  me 
and  sent  me  home.  I  now  suffered  more  mental  tor- 
ture than  I  experienced  on  sobering  up  from  any 
other  spree  I  was  ever  on.  I  believed  firmly  that  I 
was  saved;  that  my  appetite  for  liquor  was  forever 
gone.  I  felt  now  that  there  was  no  hope  for  me. 
Oh,  the  despairing  days  and  long  black  nights  of 
agony  unspeakable  that  followed  this  debauch!  IB 
time  I  recovered  physical  health,  and  began  to  lec- 
ture, though  under  greater  difficulties  than  ever  be- 
fore. I  was  so  harrassed  by  my  own  shame  and  the 
world's  doubts  that  within  a  month  I  again  got  drunk. 
While  on  this  spree  my  friends  made  out  the  neces- 
sary papers,  and  I  was  committed  to  the  Indiana 
Hospital  for  the  Insane.  Here,  then,  I  am  to-day, 
very  near  the  end  of  my  most  wretched  and  misspent 
life.  How  can  I  tell  the  emotions  which  swell  in  my 
heart?  It  is  on  the  record  of  this  asylum  that  I  was 
brought  here  June  4th,  a  victim  of  intemperance. 
Everything  is  being  done  for  me  that  can  be  done, 
but  I  feel  that  my  case  is  hopeless  unless  help  comes 
from  above.  Ordinarily  restraint  and  proper  atten- 
tion to  diet  and  rest  would  in  time  cure  aggravated 
cases  of  that  peculiar  insanity  which  manifests  itself 
in  an  abnormal  and  excessive  demand  for  liquor. 
But  with  me  the  spell  returns  after  months  of  sobri- 
ety with  a  force  which  I  am  powerless  to  resist,  as 


AUTOBIOGRAPHY  OF  LUTHER  BENSON.      193 

the  reader  has  seen  in  the  several  instances  given  in 
this  autobiography.  The  rule  of  treatment  for  pa- 
tients here  varies  with  the  different  characters  of  the 
patients.  The  impressions  which  I  had  formed  of 
•insane  asylums  was  very  different  from  those  which 
have  come  from  my  sojourn  among  the  insane.  Theie 
is  less  screaming  and  violence  than  I  thought  there 
would  be,  and  for  most  of  the  time  the  wards  in  which 
the  better  class  of  patients  are  confined  are  as  still  and 
apparently  as  peaceful  as  a  home  circle.  The  horror 
experienced  during  the  first  week's,  or  first  two  weeks' 
confinement  wears  off,  and  one  gradually  forgets  that 
he  is  in  a  house  for  the  mad.  Many  amusing  cases 
come  under  my  observation,  but  there  are  others 
which  excite  various  feelings  of  pity,  disgust,  fear, 
and  horror.  There  is,  for  instance,  a  man  in  "my 
ward"  who  imagines  that  he  has  murdered  all  his 
relations.  Another  believes  that  he  swallowed  and 
carries  within  him  a  living  mule  which  compels  him 
to  walk  on  his  hands  as  well  as  his  feet.  One  poor 
fellow  can  not  be  convinced  but  assassins  are  hourly 
trying  to  stab  or  shoot  him.  One  is  afraid  to  eat  for 
fear  of  being  poisoned,  and  another  wants  to  disem- 
bowel himself.  Twice  a  day  the  wards,  which  num- 
-ber  from  thirty  to  forty  patients  under  the  charge  of 
two  attendants,  one  or  the  other  of  whom  is  con- 
13 


194  FIFTEEN  YEARS  IN  HELL. 

stantly  on  duty,  are  taken  out  for  a  walk  in  the  beau- 
tiful grounds  around  the  asylum.  Sometimes,  when 
it  is  thought  that  the  patient  will  be  benefited,  and 
when  he  is  really  well  but  still  not  in  a  condition  to 
be  discharged,  he  is  allowed  the  freedom  of  the- 
grounds.  After  I  had  been  here  two  weeks  I  was 
permitted  to  go  out  on  the  grounds  alone.  But  my 
feelings  are  about  the  same  outside  the  building  as 
inside.  Even  as  I  write  I  feel  that  there  is  a  devil 
within  me  which  is  demanding  me  to  go  away  from 
this  place.  I  want  whisky,  and  would  at  this  mo- 
ment barter  my  soul  for  a  pint  of  the  hellish  poison. 
I  have  now  been  here  a  little  over  a  month.  Like 
all  the  other  patients,  I  am  kindly  treated.  Our  beds 
are  clean,  and  our  food  is  well  prepared,  such  as  it  is, 
and  it  is  really  much  better  than  could  be  expected 
on  the  appropriation  made  by  the  last  Legislature. 
I  doubt  if  there  is  another  institution  of  the  kind  in 
the  United  States  that  can  be  compared  with  this  in 
the  ability,  justice,  kindness,  and  noble  and  unswerv- 
ing honesty  of  its  management.  Dr.  Everts,  the 
superintendent,  is  a  gentleman  whom  I  have  not  the 
honor  to  know  personally,  but  whose  commanding 
intelligence,  and  equally  great  heart,  are  venerated 
by  all  who  do  know  him. 

This  is  the  fourth  day  of  July,  and  I  have  written 
to  my  friends  to  come  and  take  me  away  —  for  what 


AUTOBIOGRAPHY  OF  LUTHER  BENSON.       195 

purpose  I  dare  not  think.  I  am  utterly  desolate  and 
miserable,  and  dare  not  look  forward  to  the  future, 
for  I  dread  to  face  the  uncertain  and  unknown  TO- 
COME.  To  stay  here  is  worse  than  madness,  in  my 
present  condition,  and  to  go  away  may  be  death.  O, 
that  some  power  higher  than  earth  would  reach  forlh 
a  hand  and  save  me  from  myself!  I  can  not  remain 
here  without  abusing  the  kindness  and  trust  of  a  great 
institution,  nor  can  I  go  away,  I  fear,  without  bring- 
ing disgrace  on  my  friends,  and  shame  and  death  on 
myself.  God  of  mercy,  help  me !  I  know  how  use- 
less it  would  be  to  lock  me  up  in  solitary  confinement, 
and  I  think  my  attendant  physician  also  feels  that  I 
can  not  be  saved  by  any  means  within  the  reach  of 
the  asylum.  With  others  not  insane,  but  cursed  with 
that  insanity  for  drink  which,  if  not  checked,  will 
soon  or  late  lead  to  the  destruction  of  reason  and  life 
itself,  there  is  a  chance  to  restore  them  from  the  curse 
to  a  life  of  honor  and  usefulness,  and  no  means  should 
-be  left  untried  which  may  ultimately  save  them,  es- 
pecially the  young  who,  but  for  this  curse  infernal, 
might  rise  to  a  useful  and  even  august  manhood. 

The  shadows  of  the  evening  are  settling  upon  the 
face  of  the  earth.  Now  and  then  the  report  of  a  can- 
non in  the  direction  of  the  city  recalls  what  day  it  is, 
and  I  am  reminded  that  crowds  are  thronging  the 
streets  for  the  purpose  of  witnessing  the  display  of 


196  FIFTEEN  YEARS  IN  HELL. 

holiday  fireworks ;  but  vain  to  me  such  mimicry.  A 
tall  and  mysterious  shadow,  more  dark  and  awful  than 
any  which  will  steal  among  the  graves  of  the  old 
churchyard  to-night,  has  risen  and  now  stands  beside 
»ne,  whispering  in  the  stillness  —  "Go  away!" 


CHAPTER  XV. 

A  sleepless  night  —  Try  to  write  on  the  following  day  but  fail  — 
My  friends  consult  with  the  officers  of  the  institution — I  am 
discharged  —  Go  to  Indianapolis  and  get  drunk — My  wander- 
ings and  horrible  sufferings  —  Alcohol  —  The  tyrant  whom  all 
should  slay  —  What  is  lost  by  the  drunkard — Is  anything  gained 
by  the  use  of  liquor? — Never  touch  it  in  any  form  —  It  leads  to 
ruin  and  death  —  Better  blow  your  brains  out —  My  condition  at 
present — The  end. 

After  writing  the  words  "go  away,"  which  close 
the  preceding  chapter,  I  lay  down  and  tried  to  com- 
pose ray  thoughts,  but  the  effort  was  futile.  I  passed 
a  sleepless  night,  and  when  morning  came  I  had 
fully  resolved  to  leave  the  hospital  if  in  my  power 
to  do  so.  During  the  forenoon  I  took  up  my  pencil 
a  number  of  times  for  the  purpose  of  writing,  but  I 
was  so  disturbed  in  mind  that  I  could  not  write  a 
line  intelligibly,  and  I  will  here  say  that  from  that 
day,  July  fifth,  to  this,  September  fifteenth,  the  manu- 
script remained  untouched  in  the  hands  of  a  very  dear 
friend,  to  whom  I  am  under  many  obligations  for  his 

(197) 


198  FIFTEEN  YEARS  IN  HELL. 

clear  advice  and  judgment  on  matters  of  this  sort  as 
well  as  on  others.  I  will  now  write  this,  the  fifteenth 
and  last  chapter  of  this  book ;  and  in  order  to  make 
the  story  of  my  life  complete  up  to  this  date,  I  will 
go  back  and  resume  the  thread  of  the  narrative 
where  it  was  left  off  on  the  evening  of  the  fourth  of 
July.  It  will  be  remembered  that  in  my  last  chap- 
ter I  spoke  of  having  written  letters  to  some  of  m 
friends  desiring  them  to  come  and  ask  for  my  dis- 
charge. I  awaited  impatiently  their  coming,  but 
when  they  came,  which  was  on  the  sixth  of  July,  I 
think,  they  were  undecided  whether  it  would  be  bet- 
ter for  me  to  "go  away,"  or  remain  longer  at  the 
asylum,  but  I  plead  to  go,  as  if  my  life  depended 
upon  it.  After  consultation  with  the  authorities  at 
the  hospital,  who  were  clearly  of  the  opinion  that 
they  had  no  right  to  detain  me  under  the  circum- 
stances, and  who,  therefore,  felt  it  incumbent  upon 
them  to  discharge  me,  particularly  if  my  friends 
were  willing,  it  was  by  all  parties  decided  that  I 
should  go.  I  felt  glad  in  my  heart  that  the  institu- 
tion was  relieved  of  all  responsibility  in  my  case,  for 
J  did  not  wish  to  bring  reproach  upon  anyone,  and  I 
feared  if  I  remained  longer  I  might  take  some  rash 
step  (abusing  the  generous  kindness  of  my  officers) 
that  would  do  so.  They  had  done  their  whole  duty 
by  me,  and  it  remained  for  me  now  to  do  my  duty  to 


A  UTOBIO  GRAPHY  OF  L  UTHER  BENSON.       199 

myself  and  friends.  But  as  soon  as  I  got  to  Indian- 
apolis the  pent-up  fires  of  appetite  blazed  forth,  and 
while  on  the  way  to  the  Union  Depot  to  take  the 
train  to  Rushville,  I  gave  ray  friends  the  slip,  and, 
sneaking  like  a  thief  through  the  alleys,  I  sought 
and  found  an  obscure  saloon  in  which  I  secreted  my- 
self and  began  to  drink.  I  was  once  more  on  the 
road  which  leads  to  perdition.  The  old  .enemy,  who 
had  crawled  up  the  walls  of  the  asylum  and  slimed 
himself  through  my  grated  windows,  and  coiled 
around  my  heart  in  frightful  dreams,  again  had  me 
in  his  possession.  Thus  began  one  of  the  most 
maniacal  and  terrible  drunks  of  my  life.  I  became 
possessed  of  the  wildest  and  most  unreal  thoughts 
that  ever  entered  a  crazed  brain.  I  abused  and  mis- 
represented my  best  friends,  and  cursed  everything 
but  the  thrice  cursed  liquor  which  was  burning  up 
my  body  and  soul.  I  told  absurd  and  terrible  stories 
about  the  places  where  I  had  been,  and  about  the 
friends  who  had  done  most  for  me.  I  was  insane  — 
as  utterly  so  for  the  time  as  the  worst  case  in  the 
asylum.  I  knew  not  what  I  did  or  said,  and  yet  my 
actions  and  words  were  cunningly  contrived  to  de- 
ceive. 

For  the  greater  part  of  the  fifteen  days  which  fol- 
lowed I  was  as  unconscious  of  what  I  did  or  said  as 
if  [  had  been  dead  and  buried  in  the  bottom  of  the 


200  FIFTEEN  YEARS  IN  HELL. 

sea.  What  I  know  of  the  time  I  have  learned  since 
from  the  lips  of  others.  The  hideous,  fiendish  ser- 
pent of  drunkenness  possessed  my  whole  being.  I 
felt  him  in  every  nerve,  bone,  sinew,  fiber,  and  drop 
of  blood  in  my  body.  There  were  moments  when  a 
glimmer  of  reason  came  to  me,  and  with  it  a  pang 
that  shriveled  my  soul.  During  the  period  that  I 
was  drinking  I  was  in  Rushville,  after  leaving  In- 
dianapolis, Falmouth  and  Cambridge  City.  Of  course, 
for  the  most  part  of  the  time,  I  knew  not  where  I  was. 
As  I  think  of  it  now,  I  know  that  I  was  in  hell.  My 
thirst  for  whisky  was  positively  maddening.  I  tried 
every  means  to  quit,  when  conscious  of  my  existence: 
I  voluntarily  entered  the  calaboose  more  than  once, 
and  was  locked  up,  but  the  instant  I  got  out,  the 
madness  caused  me  to  fly  where  liquor  was.  I  drank 
it  in  enormous  quantities,  and  smothered  without 
quenching  the  scorching,  blazing  fires  of  hell  which 
were  making  cinders  and  ashes  of  every  hope  and 
energy  of  my  being.  I  made  my  bed  among  serpents ; 
I  fed  on  flames  and  poison ;  I  walked  with  demons 
and  ghouls;  all  unutterable  and  slimy  monsters 
crawled  around  and  over  me:  every  breath  that  I 
drew  reeked  with  the  odor  of  death ;  every  beat  of 
my  fast-throbbing  heart  sent  the  hissing,  boiling 
blood  through  my  veins,  which  returned  and  froze 
about  it.  I  have  neither  words  nor  images  sum"- 


AUTOBIOGRAPHY  OF  LUTHER  BENSON.       201 

ciently  horrible  to  typify  my  condition.  I  became, 
for  the  time  an  abhorred  object ;  the  sex  of  my  sainted 
mother  made  a  wide  sweep  to  pass  me  by,  and  dear, 
little,  innocent  children  fled  from  me  as  from  a  mon- 
ster. My  soul  was  no  longer  my  own.  The  fiend 
Appetite  had  given  it  over,  bound  and  helpless,  to 
the  fiend  Alcohol.  I  turned  by  bleared  vision  towards 
the  vaulted  skies,  and  cursed  them  because  they  did 
not  rain  fire  and  brimstone  down  upon  me  and  de- 
stroy me.  And  yet,  oh !  how  I  dreaded  to  die !  The 
grave  opened  before  me,  and  a  million  horrors  were 
in  its  hollow  and  black  chasm.  The  scalding  tears  I 
shed  gave  me  no  relief;  the  cries  I  uttered  were  un- 
heard ;  and  every  ear  was  deaf  to  my  pleadings.  At 
times  I  thought  of  the  asylum,  and  I  would  have 
given  worlds  could  I  have  retraced  my  steps,  and  slept 
once  more  securely  within  its  merciful  and  protecting 
\vnlls.  O,  God  !  I  screamed,  why  did  I  leave  it?  As 
day  after  day  dragged  its  endless  length  along,  and 
no  relief  came,  my  despair  was  a  delirium  of  wretch- 
edness. The  sun  appeared  to  be  extinguished,  and 
the  universe  was  a  void  of  black,  impenetrable  dark- 
ness, out  of  which,  before  and  after  me,  rose  the  hide- 
ous specters,  Death  and  Annihilation.  The  unim- 
aginable horrors  of  the  tremens  were  upon  me. 

Once  more  hear-  my  voice,  you  who  read !     Lose 
no  opportunity  to  strike  a  blow  at  intemperance.     It 


202  FIFTEEN  YEARS  IN  HELL  . 

may  smile  in  the  rosy  face  of  youth,  but  do  not  be  de- 
^ceived;  there  are  agonies  unspeakable  hidden  beneath 
that  smile.  Look  not  on  the  wine  cup  when  it  is 
red,  no  matter  if  the  jeweled  hand  of  a  princess  hold  it 
between  you  and  the  light.  It  is  the  beginning  whose 
4-nd  is  degradation,  remorse,  misery  and  death!  Turn 
from  a  glass  of  beer  as  from  a  goblet  of  reeking  and 
poisoned  blood.  It  is  a  danger  to  be  shunned.  Be- 
ware that  you  do  not  learn  this  too  late. 

Alcohol,  ruin,  and  death  go  hand  in  hand.  The 
region  over  which  Alcohol  is  king  is  one  of  decay. 
It  is  full  of  graves.  The  ghosts  of  the  million  joys. 
he  has  slain  wail  amid  its  ghastly  desolations;  there 
are  sounds  of  sobbing  orphans  there;  echoes  of  wid- 
ows' shrieks;  and  the  lamentations  of  fond  mothers 
and  wives,  heart-broken,  vex  the  realm ;  youth  and  age 
lie  here  dishonored  together;  in  vain  the  sweetheart 
begs  her  lover  to  return  from  its  fatal  mists;  in  vain 
the  pure  sister  calls  with  trembling  tongue  for  her 
erring  brother.  He  will  not  come  back.  He  is  the 
slave  of  a  tyrant  who  has  no  compassion  and  knows 
no  mercy.  Oppose  this  tyrant,  all  ye  who  love  the 
home  circle  better  than  the  bawdy  house;  fight  him 
all  ye  who  set  honor  above  dishonor ;  curse  him  all 
ye  who  prefer  peace  to  discord,  and  law  to  anarchy ; 
war  against  him  in  all  ways  unceasingly  all  ye  to 
whom  the  thought  of  liberty  and  safety  is  dear,  to 


AUTOBIOGRAPHY  OF  LUTHER  BENSON.       203 

whom  happiness  and  truth  are  more  desirable  than 
misery  and  falsehood. 

What,  let  me  ask,  is  to  be  gained  by  drinking? 
What  blessing  comes  from  forming  or  indulging  the 
habit?  Pause  here  and  think  well  before  you  answer. 
You  could  not  afford  to  drink  if  the  wealth  of  % 
nation  were  yours,  because  no  man  can  afford  to  lose 
health  and  happiness  if  he  hopes  enjoyment  in  life. 
If  you  are  strong,  alcohol  will  destroy  your  nerves 
and  sap  your  vigor.  If  you  are  weak,  it  will  enfeeble 
you  the  more.  If  you  are  unhappy,  iff  will  only  add 
to  your  unhappiness.  Look  at  the  subject  as  you 
will,  you  can  not  afford  to  drink  intoxicating  liquors. 
The  moment  you  begin  to  form  the  habit  of  drinking 
that  moment  you  begin  to  endanger  your  reputation, 
health  and  happiness,  and  that  of  your  family  and 
friends  also.  And  let  me  say  right  now  that  you  be- 
gin to  form  the  habit  when  you  touch  your  lips  to 
any  sort  of  intoxicating  drink  the  first  time.  I  have 
drank  the  sparkle  and  foam,  and  the  gall  and  worm- 
wood of  all  liquors.  Do  you  envy  me  the  horrors 
through  which  I  have  passed?  You  know  how  to 
avoid  them.  Never  touch  liquor.  If  you  are  benc 
on  going  to  hell  and  destruction,  choose  a  nearer  and 
more  honoi'able  way  by  blowing  your  brains  out  at 
once. 

A  few  words  more,  dear  readers,  and  I  will  bid  you 


204  FIFTEEN  YEARS  IN  HELL. 

good  by.  Many  of  you  have  no  doubt  heard  of  my 
restored  peace  and  lasting  favor  with  God  at  Fowler, 
Indiana.  With  regard  to  it  and  my  condition  at  the 
present  time,  I  will  incorporate  in  substance  the  letter 
which  I  recently  published  in  reply  to  inquiries  ad- 
dressed to  me  from  all  parts  of  the  country,  shortly 
after  that  event.  I  will  give  the  letter  with  but  little 
change,  even  at  the  risk  of  repeating  what  is  else- 
where recorded.  It  is  as  follows: 

On  the  evening  of  January  twenty-first,  1877,  at 
Jefferson ville,  Indiana,  God  pardoned  my  sins  and 
made  me  a  new  creature.  For  weeks  happiness  and 
joy  were  mine.  The  appetite — rather  my  passion — 
for  liquor,  which  made  the  present  a  misery  and  the 
future  a  darkness,  was  no '  longer  present.  Its  heavy 
burdens  had  fallen  from  me.  Of  this  there  could  be 
no  doubt;  but  I  had  been  educated  to  believe  that 
"once  in  grace  always  in  grace,"  and  this  led  to  a 
fatal  deception,  a  belief  that  I  could  not  fall;  that 
after  God  had  once  pardoned  my  sins  I  was  as  surely 
saved  as  if  already  in  Paradise.  That  they  were 
pardoned  I  had  not  a  doubt,  for  the  manifestations 
were  as  clear  as  light.  Falsely  thinking  that  I  was 
pardoned  for  all  time,  my  soul  grew  self-reliant:  I 
became  at  the  same  time  careless  of  my  religious  duties. 
I  neglected  to  pray,  to  beware  of  temptation,  and, 
naturally  enough,  soon  found  myself  drifting  into  the 


AUTOBIOGRAPHY  OF  LUTHER  BENSON.       205 

society  of  those  who  neither  loved  nor  feared  God. 
Had  I  trusted  alone  in  God  and  permitted  the  Savior 
to  lead  and  keep  me,  I  should  not  have  fallen.  In- 
stead, I  went  bsck  to  the  world,  gave  no  thanks  to 
God  for  his  mercy  and  love,  and  thus  dishonoring 
him,  his  face  was  hidden  from  me. 

I  went  to  Boston  to  speak  in  Moody  and  San- 
key's  meeting.  I  never  once  hoped  by  so  doing  to 
be  the  means  of  others'  salvation  ;  rny  sole  thought 
was  self  and  selfish  ambition.  Instead  of  talking  at 
the  Moody  meeting,  I  took  a  drink  of  liquor,  soon 
got  drunk,  and  so  remained  for  days.  When  I  came 
out  of  the  oblivion  of  that  debauch,  the  agony  ex- 
perienced was  terrible.  All  the  shames,  all  the 
burning  regrets,  all  the  stinging  compunctions  of 
conscience  I  had  known  on  coming  out  of  such  de- 
bauches before  my  conversion  were  almost  as  joy 
compared  with  the  misery  which  preyed  upon  my 
heart  then.  I  can  not  describe  the  hopeless  feeling  of 
remorse  which  came  over  me.  I  lived  and  moved  in 
a  night  of  misery  and  no  star  was  in  its  sky.  In  the 
course  of  a  few  days  I  recovered  physically  so  far  as 
to  be  able  to  lecture.  I  prayed  in  secret,  long  and 
often,  for  a  return  of  that  peace  which  comes  from 
God  alone,  but  in  vain.  I  was  justly  self-punished. 
At  the  end  of  four  or  five  weeks  I  fell  again,  and 
this  time  my  degradation  was  deeper  than  before.  I 


206  FIFTEEN  YEARS  IN  HELL. 

would  at  times  console  myself  with  the  thought  that 
my  suffering  had  reached  the  limit  of  endurance,  and 
at  such  times  new  and  still  keener  agonies  would  rise 
in  my  heart,  like  harpies,  to  tear  me  to  atoms. 

It  was  at  this  time  that  I  was  committed  to  the 

+ 

'Hospital  for  the  Insane  at  Indianapolis.  The  readei 
is  aware  of  what  took  place  on  my  arrival  at  Indian- 
apolis, after  leaving  the  hospital.  I  felt  somehow 
that  it  was  my  last  spree.  I  kept  it  up  until  nature 
could  endure  no  more.  I  felt  that  my  stomach  was 
burned  up,  and  that  my  brain  was  scalded.  I  was 
crucified  from  my  head  to  the  soles  of  my  feet.  I 
began  to  feel  sure  that  this  time  I  would  die,  and, 
when  dead,  go  to  the  hell  which  seemed  to  be  open  to 
receive  me.  July  twenty-first  I  left  Indianapolis, 
and  went  to  Fowler,  Indiana,  at  which  place,  for  five 
days  and  nights,  I  suffered  every  mental  and  physical 
pang  that  can  afflict  mortal  man.  Day  and  night  I 
prayed  God  to  be  merciful,  but  no  relief  came.  The 
dark  hopelessness  in  which  I  lay  I  can  not  describe. 
I  felt  that  I  was  undeserving  of  God's  pardon  or 
o^iercy.  I  had  wronged  myself,  and  my  friends  more, 
t  i;in  myself;  I  had  trampled  upon  the  love  of  Christ; 
I  had  loved  myself  amiss  and  lost  myself.  The 
Christian  people  of  Fowler  prayed  for  me;  they 
called  a  prayer-meeting  especially  for  me,  to  ask  God 
to  have  mercy  on  and  save  me.  On  Wednesday 


AUTOBIOGRAPHY  OF  LUTHER  BENSON.       207 

night  I  went  to  the  regular  prayer-meeting,  and,  with 
a  breaking  heart,  begged,  on  bended  knee,  that  God 
would  take  compassion  on  me.  The  next  day,  July 
twenty-sixth,  was  the  most  wretched  day  I  ever  passed 
on  earth.  It  seemed  that  whichsoever  way  I  turned, 
hell's  fiercest  fires  lapped  up  around  my  feet.  There 
seemed  no  escape  for  me.  Like  that  scorpion  girt 
with  flames,  flee  in  any  direction  I  would,  I  found 
the  misery  and  suffering  increasing.  I  resolved  to 
commit  suicide,  but  when  just  in  the  act  of  taking 
my  life  the  Spirit  of  God  restrained  me.  I  met  the 
Rev.  Frank  Taylor,  the  pastor  at  Fowler.  I  told 
him  my  hopeless  condition.  He  cheered  me  in  every 
way  possible.  In  the  evening  we  took  a  walk,  and  it 
was  during  this  walk,  while  in  the  act  of  reaching  my 
hand  down  to  my  pocket  to  get  a  chew  of  tobacco, 
that  I  felt  a  power  hold  back  my  hand,  and,  plainer 
than  any  spoken  words,  this  same  power  told  me  not 
to  touch  it.  I  obeyed,  withdrew  my  hand,  and  at 
that  instant  the  glory  of  God  filled  my  heart,  suffer- 
vng  fled  from  me,  and  in  its  stead  came  sweet  peace. 
I  had  been  using  enormous  quantities  of  tobacco, 
and  the  use  of  this  narcotic  increased,  if  it  did  not 
aid  in  bringing  on  my  appetite  for  liquor.  I  have 
at  times  suffered  keenly  from  suddenly  renouncing 
its  use,  but  from  the  time  God  fully  restored  me  I 
have  not  tasted  nor  touched  tobacco  and  whisky  or 


208  FIFTEEN  YEARS  IN  HELL. 

any  other  stimulants.  Do  not  understand  me  as  say- 
ing that  the  appetite  for  them  is  dead,  or  that  I  have 
had  no  hours  of  depression  and  struggle  in  which  the 
old  Satan  tempted  me.  I  expect  all  my  life  to  wage 
a  battle  against  him,  and  to  know  what  sorrow  is 
jmd  pain.  But  by  the  grace  of  God  I  will  dare  to 
do  right,  and  with  his  help  I  mean  to  be  victorious 
in  every  fight  against  sin.  I  will  abase  myself  with 
a  trusting  heart,  and  shrink  from  all  self-esteem  at 
war  with  the  true  principles  to  which  a  follower  of 
Christ  should  cling.  I  will  grind  myself  to  dust  if 
by  so  doing  I  may  have  God's  grace.  I  fully  realize 
that  left  to  myself  I  am  nothing.  Jesus  is  not  only 
my  Savior;  he  shall  be  my  guide  in  all  things.  His 
precious  blood  has  redeemed  me,  and  I  am  at  rest  in 
the  shadow  of  the  Rifted  Rock.  Peace  dwells  with- 
in me,  and  joy  and  praise  to  the  Father  of  all  mercies 
fill  my  soul.  To  that  Father  Almighty  be  the  praise. 
I  earnestly  desire  the  prayers  of  all  Christian  men 
and  women.  Every  time  you  pray  ask  God  to  keep 
and  save  me  with  a  salvation  which  shall  be  ever- 
lasting. 

THE  END. 


Date  Due 


PRINTED   IN    U.S.A.  CAT.      NO.     24      161 


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